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This blog is to publish my poetry, as a means of therapeutic release. I draw my inspiration from my inward struggles, as well as the dark things I have experienced. For me, being a survivor of violent situations and struggling with mental illnesses, a way for me to process my intense feelings…is to write. I suppose this is where I should also say that my work, it can be viewed as dark or intense, spanning topics that could be triggering to some.

I have gone through a great many things. Some are good… and some are not. But part of my journey as a writer has come from letting go of pent up emotion and letting those feelings escape in a healthy way instead of some not-so-appealing alternatives.

Instead of my work sitting in multiple half-filled notebooks littering my room or collecting dust in a closet, I thought I should share my work. Maybe I could help someone who went through the things I have. Sometimes, knowing you’re not alone helps all on its own. I myself have struggled for a long time, suffering in silence. All I wanted was to know that I wasn’t alone. I’m not. There are many people who have gone through the things that I have but I didn’t know how to reach out, or how to find them or even find proof that I wasn’t the only one who experienced what I had. I was convinced that the hole I felt that I was trapped in was the only thing that existed.

Hopefully my work either inspires you, entertains you, or even helps you cope with something that you have experienced. Or maybe all you need is to know, you’re not alone.

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You found me alone,

Desperate to be loved.

You spun words of gold,

False promises.

Scarlet whispers,

Fueling my own hatred of myself.

I discovered much too late that they were an elaborate web.

I became trapped.

Afraid to feel the ground I so desperately wanted to stand on.

Conflicting feelings,

Needing to escape but craving the jagged façade of love I believed in

He

(TRIGGER WARNING)

Walking through the halls, you always kept me close.

Something agitated you.. some small nothing.

I had told you to relax.

You gripped my arm. Somewhat a death grip, bold colors appearing under your fingertips.

Your last mistake.

You slipped, letting that fiery anger show for just a moment in front of him.

He heard your voice. That bellow echoed down the hall. You walked away. You left me. He saw the colors you left on me.

He refused to believe my pathetic excuses, how I tried to explain away the bruise.

He asked me if I was okay and gently moved my other sleeve…

revealing other small nothings, some faded and some still fresh and tender.

He saved me from you.

He kept me safe.

My self appointed bodyguard. A protector.

My own champion knight.

You wouldn’t dare cross his path. You were a coward.

ARE.

His instinct was to protect.

The structured ice to your reckless fire.

My friend

My savior

My angel

It’s been years.

We’re together now,

And

He still protects me.

He shows me the love you never did.

He kisses away my tears.

He holds me close.

It’s been years and I’m proud to say,

I

Am

Safe.

Monster

(TRIGGER WARNING IN ADVANCE: SEXUAL ASSAULT)

With your cigarette smoke and the alcohol left on your lips,

your cheap cologne clouding the air,

it was hard to breathe.

As you beat me into the mattress, it was hard to breathe.

I can still feel the sheets getting caught in my mouth while I gasp for air, catching only thin fabric between my lips.

I still feel my hair wrapped around your fist as you take what you believe is yours.

I still feel the rope biting my skin.

I still feel your friends lips on my body as you give him a turn.

I still feel the warmth you both left inside me.

I still feel the scalding water I let cascade down my body to burn away your touch.

I still feel the bruises you left; I could point them out as if I could see them still.

It’s been years.

But I still feel it.

Everything.

I still hear your laugh.

The way you’d hum as you played guitar.

The way you smiled when you tried to teach me.

How you’d hold my hand when we walked.

But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change what you did or justify the way you treated me.

I know that now.

The old me believed the mask you’d wear around others.

But I see the monster you really were.