Poem #320

How can you corrupt something so
young and innocent?
As if getting her attention wasn’t enough,
you now want to expand your influence,
see how much you can manipulate
the mind that still believes in a happy end.
Do you get off on causing pain?

Her soul wasn’t ready to take a beating
but you didn’t blink an eye while
turning her into the other girl
the second option for your lonely nights.
You took one look at her, didn’t care what was inside.
You called her gut feelings a joke
while you were turning her into one.

Where is the finish line, where is the satisfaction
of making someone feel filthy, worth less than a dime
How can you corrupt something so
young and innocent?
Did you even feel the shame
or you just let her take the fall?

#savingme – Poem #240

I am doing this old school, putting pen to paper.
Like 13 years ago when I started writing this mess down,
learned that violence can inspire creativity.

On the floor, the bed dragged to the door,
mommy told me not to make much noise because dad
was convinced he was alone.

In case he heard me, got upset and kicked the door down
there was only one way, jump out of the window
to the grass that, I swear, was never the greener.

I found a gift in your violence, beauty in the bruises
that covered my mother’s body every time you saw the
bottom of the bottle.

I found words beneath the insults to write down my anger,
to make sure it doesn’t boil inside of me turning me into the
drunk, selfish monster you came to be.

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

Poem #239

Can’t you see it’s still me behind this mask.
I thought you would see through this version of me.
Just believe there are good intentions behind this.
I know that the road to hell is paved with good intentions
but I am paving my road back to me. Can’t you hear
these tired steps that I am taking?

Poem #233

It doesn’t really hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.
Sometimes the memories float through my
mind and make me shiver but it doesn’t
hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while. Sometimes
I miss you before closing my sleepy eyes and
I feel like I can feel your touch but it doesn’t
hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.

Years and years ago people waited for the
pain to go away, for the heart to heal and then
they were alright, but now it’s hard to clean one’s
life from a former lover’s presence. You are
virtually reminding me that you’re not mine but it
doesn’t hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.

To hell with pain, I can deal with that but I
can’t deal with not being able to escape your
eyes and move on with my life. You are always looking
at me from pictures, reminding me of what we
had and even thought it doesn’t hurt anymore,
and it hasn’t in a while, I’m still sitting here waiting
for your presence to go offline.

I’m waiting for your name to stop being on the top
of my messenger contacts. I’m waiting for my hand
to stop clicking your name wanting to write something.
I’m waiting for Instagram stories to stop telling me
where you are. I’m waiting for the day I’ll stop opening
them. I’m waiting for our pictures to disappear from
my gallery. I’m waiting for a day I’ll be strong enough
to delete them like you deleted me.

But it doesn’t really hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.

Poem #231

The road is dark, the steps are heavy.
With each breath you gain more understanding
for his actions, for his addictions.
You look in the mirror and the reflection smiles
saying that you look just like your father.
Every lunatic needs his doomed heir.

Poem #216

You left a big question mark in my head
and you’re depriving me of the answers to save face.
You misinterpreted everything I said just to
keep the situation moving in the direction you like
and that direction is as far away from the mess you left
in my brain. Run. Just run away. That’s what you do best.
I hope regret and guilt keep you warm at night since
you traded me for them.

Poem #213

I will just shut down. Fake it ‘till you make it.
Maybe I’ll make the feelings go away.
On a rainy day and on a sunny day I’ll have the
same expression.
Nothing will touch me.
Nothing will bother me.
I’ll close my eyes at the sign of memories, I’ll stop
breathing when I feel a familiar smell next to me.
Fake it ‘till you make it all go away.
I’ll lock my soul in a safe place so that I can dust her
off anytime I need to pick up my pen.
Fake it ‘till you make it.
Fake it ‘till you make it.