i have
lived a hundred lives,
and died a
hundred times.
naïve years
at fault
of falling
to abuse.
‘if you
love me, you will do this for me.’
suffocating,
bending and breaking,
to fit what
would never satisfy.
the wooden
floor
took away
my dignity.
and i bled
out onto the tiles.
****
trust for
someone, that could never
trust
themself.
‘i don’t
know what i want.’
back and
forth broke
fragile parts
of me,
and my
choice was made by
the hands
of another.
my life
hanging by a thread.
****
light
hearts and lust
for silk
sheets.
‘i can’t
love someone who is this way.’
carried the
weight
and scars
of those before.
afraid of
anything real,
of what
doesn’t fit.
i fell six
feet into another.
****
high hearts
and a common
bloody
thread.
no words
said.
veiled from
sight,
wrists
bound tightly.
intensely
consuming and
tormentingly
palpable.
like a
shot, my heart ripped
out.
i bled onto
the tiles once more.
****
a strange
unknown.
‘you are safe here.’
velvet
comfort,
and the
space to be.
i bleed
differently,
yet i still
breathe.
i have
lived a hundred lives,
and died a
hundred times.