me

And i was fine for a few days

He didnt know what to do with himself and came to me

Which didnt leave much room for me to grieve.

But i told him to carry himself

And i moved into a new apartment

And found all the things he gave me

All the letters

And heart shaped boxes

And mnms

And a beenie

And the onesie

Read the full story

--------------------------------

To love

Is to hand over

The big red button

A representation of my self destruction

And you hate it

But cherish it

Dont understand it

Except to know you have done the same

The self implosion

That will never be set into motion

It is high time

Imagine this: a girl, a womans body

Her mind a time capsule

Into the past

When she cut her pain out

Using a pseudonym

Using her body

To pleasure others minds

She finds herself on her knees

Heart held up

Head held down

Eyes trained on the ground

Where she thought she belonged

The words slave, pain, pleasure, all meant the same thing;

Love

Let me take you back to a time

where all that was mine was my life,

my body was owned,

my soul was tattered,

my mind brainwashed

to think this

was acceptable.

Will you feel my shaking, tembling, inches from your arms, and wrap me in them, dissapate my fears?

Will you notice the uncertainty in my eyes, hear my silence as it rings loudly in my ears, and ask where it comes from, care for the answer?

Will you hold my hand, when i clench them into fists, when i use them to mutilate myself, to remind me i dont have to do that anymore?