Untitled

-S. (2015)
(edited by R.)

Remnants of Hell

You took my world and made me believe all its beauty, chaos, and wonder was stored within the

| steel cage| of your narrow
|perception|

Rem\nan\ts of your prison still torment me… but I will break – – ~~

~- – free

and live magnificently among the colors and spectacular beauty that I once thrived.

-S. (2018)

(formatting: a work in progress)

Me as Temporary (works in draft, 2017)

With reckless abandon,

my words piercesilence.

I srcmalbe to find a way to erase myself.

-S. (2017)

/2019 edit/myself/

Reflecting on Self Worth (Works in Draft circa 2017)

There are moments in solitude

When I feel uns ~t~ab~ le.

Breaking the seams of reality,

I derive my suffering from an inner monologue of hate.

-S (2017)

Tu Eres

Tu eres mi sol,

When you set,. rise again.
———————– you always —————–

Tu eres mi luz,
You (LIGHT) my path ( —— ) cuando mi ojos son oscuro.

.

.

.

tu eres mi corazón,
recordándome como sentirme.

–S. (2019)

The Art of Moving On

As we walk you tell me all that you have suffered

by the hands of humans you should have been able to trust.

I confess my empathy with experiences similar in my formative years.

You respond,

“But I’ve moved on and you have not.”

A multilayered insult with very little grounding in reality.

Your choice to merely shut out those memories and those people; and to shun all human connections for fear of repeating that same tortured past…is proof that you are far from having moved on.

You live in FE every. single. day. AR

You’ve shut yourself inside a fortress; walls of indifference so thick that no love or kindness will ever find [ [______you__________]]

I repeat your condescending tone in my head.

“Moved on”

I struggle each day with my past and the abuse that was inflicted upon me.

But I have begun to “move on”, I have allowed myself to be vulnerable, to wear my heart, my thoughts, and my emotions on my sleeve.

I’ve allowed humans I even with the fear of the past creating temporal shock-waves through my system N .

I m o v e: not allowing my abusers to dictate my future.

Every day is a struggle and every. single. fucking. day I wage a war in my head that is physically painful, debilitating, and frightening.

But, I…unlike you…am moving on. I move away from what hinders my ability to love and care for others. I support my lovers and friends in times of need. I don’t shun them away for getting too close…worrying that we may repeat a similar fate of those that have come before us.

No matter how painful the past, I continue to make small triumphs against it. I may live out my days only winning battles in this war; but…

The art of moving on is not forgetting the past exists, it is all the small steps we take to recognize its importance and to acknowledge that we have the capacity to be more.

-S. 2018

(Unedited)

Charity Case

“you’re beautiful”, you said, as I lay naked next to you,
“this is like a dream. ”

In the morning you kissed me and said goodbye.
Days pass in silence.

The quiet is broken
“It didn’t mean anything. I thought it was what you wanted.”

I’ll never understand how you could believe
that what I desired was to be hurt.

-S. (2017)

i am Your Trash

What I yearn for is the word “beautiful” to pass through your lips to describe me. 

It used to happen so easily. 

But now it is lost in the vagueness of forgotten inclinations and shuttered emotions. 

Barriers brought on by a culture that allows  no leniency for failed attempts. 

Feeling half a man, you refuse to see me as a whole woman. 

I am just a broken piece of glass. Bad luck and burdensome. 

You bury me in the trash and I am forgotten. 

-S 2017

What I see in you, I wish you saw in me

I struggle to find a place with you
Unsure of the appropriate physical proximity of our feelings.
I tug on your sleeve and try to find your lips
You push me headfirst into your chest, barely holding me…

I breathe in your scent
Intoxicated by its beauty.

I make another attempt at intimate contact
You pull me toward you but stifle my effort

For now, all I have is the sweet scented air of your body.
The warmth of your arms wrapped around me, holding us back from an emotional bond.

I desperately want to connect myselfwithyou,
To feel your warmth envelope every part of me.
To hold your face close to mine and gently trace it with my fingertips.

In my eyes, you are perfectly flawed.
Elegant and handsome; struggling to find your way in a clumsy brilliance that I admire.

I only wish that your heart felt the same.

       

                                                        –  S. (2017)

Chaos is Your Touch

In a messy array of awkward struggles

                     I am tanygloedu in

All
Soclose

So

                                                                                 At

                              Distant.

Once.

– S (2016)