You lost the right to miss me.
You lost the right to call my name
in your sleep or to tuck yourself in
with the memory of my body next to yours.
You lost the right to remember what’s it
like to hug me, kiss me, feel me, have me.
You never actually did have me. You had
something you wanted to have, you didn’t see
me and you didn’t know nothing but my name
You lost the right to come back into my life
to disrupt the months of progress it took to clear
my life of your memory, to stop the grieving.
I had to grow new skin, rip out the hair you played with,
fix the heart you played with, mend the glass shattered
soul you left behind and I did it by my damn self so NO
you can’t walk through that door.
You lost the right to ever call me yours.
You gave up.
You lost the right to tell anyone about me.
You lost the right to feel good because we were once a thing.
You lost the right to look at the pictures we took.
You lost the right to feel my scent in the shirt I left.
For as much as I care, you lost the right to live.
Maybe those people walking alone,
talking to themselves can see their
loneliness and they talked back to it.
The defeated its purpose.
They won and we call them crazy.
I’m not the one to wear my heart
on my sleeve but with a few lies you bought me.
With one look you tore down my guards.
I was so helpless and paralyzed every time we touched.
You were like my drug and I sold myself
out to desperation just to have you one more night.
I’ll pretend that you’re genuine and that
your words aren’t here to get my hands around your neck.
I’ll lie and say you’ll be here the next day but
we both now after tonight you’ll go your own way.
My pride and my brain are getting crushed on
this park bench while I pretend this isn’t another
one night deal. I’ll just pretend that every kiss
Actually it does, it means you’re getting
what you want. You always had your way
with me, always knew how to get me into
your arms. Self control is unknown when you’re around.
I know I’m fighting a losing battle but
don’t stop. Keep me in this ecstasy and
I’ll care about my feelings some other time.
After everything I don’t expect you to stick around.
I’ll feed this crave for you and then I’ll starve
until some other time when you show up.
As always I’ll give us a shot because my stupid
mind thinks you’ll fall in love.
Tell me again how you’ll do everything for
me and then walk away like I’m nothing.
Tell me another sweet lie and leave me with
sore lips, bruised heart and bruised neck before dawn.
Put the windows down
let the night air pierce my lungs.
On this highway I want to get lost tonight.
I don’t want to be found.
Why would I want to be found
in a world that tells nothing but lies?
Sells empty promises, fills out heads with
ideas about prosperity when outside
the window we see people dying on the street.
When will it end, when will we have peace?
When will we stop and think: What the fuck
have we done here?
I hear voices in my head, they keep
telling me to stop. Who am I to become
somebody, to make myself worth being alive?
It’s like everywhere I turn it’s a dead end street, so
I’ll just get lost on this highway within me.
P.S. This was actually one of the first works on my blog under the name Lost on the highway but I just thought it would be nice to repost it for you guys.
And so we decide it’s better to be alone
than to be hurt.
After years of experience we believe
it’s best to kill what makes us human
than to let it kill us.
So we fight during the day and surrender
to regret during the night because fear
never filled empty spaces, it just made
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.
#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 firstname.lastname@example.org and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here.
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?