ever get the feeling that you’ve been fucked? where one minute you’re in love the next you can tell that the person inside you does not love you at all it’s not sex it’s not making love it’s being fucked by someone who sees you as nothing more than a warm place to put their dick and a place to sleep that’s close to work that when he’s cumming he’s not thinking of you when he licks your lips you’re some girl from a porn when he pinches and bites you you’re the first girl he fucked you’re empty even when he fills you up because you’re not the girl he wants you to be you’re not worth more than the money he spent on dinner to get you here. you can't cum you can only think how you're glad that you did not say "i love you" first.
the sense has left me so complet-- i have not had enough experience to prepare me for any moment that has you as the catalyst to any self destruction do you influence everone they way you influence me do you make them all want to bleed out just so there's nothing left for you i died when you spooned me you made me un-know, un-live anything you fucked me, now i fuck you so now the girls all want to fix me and the boys all want to kiss me no one is prepared to deal with the eventuality that there is nothing left but they all keep trying so fuck them too.
oh girl, everytime you touch me, you break me just a little more and i want to love myself, even the parts of me you've poisoned.
oh girl, i can't forget that toxic smile of yours, counterfeit and wooing, as if asking me to feel foreign feelings.
oh girl, my heart gets heavy, beating like a drum, and i want to stop this game, but you're so good at convincing me you're real.
oh girl, i think i only loved you to forget i hated me, so don't dig that knife any deeper, because it's too late -- i've forgotten how to bleed this blood.
my heart sank so deep its started to drown the split seconds it's able to gasp for air, are the times when i'm getting through it 95% of the time, i'm suffocating beating rapidly breathing rapidly gasping struggling my light head is heavily weighed down save this heart of mine i reject the thought of it suffocating the rest of its life
You were wrong for me You are wrong for me It wasn't right I'm slowly starting to see (that) My ode to athena is this contrary to what i feel, is the truth contrary to how you feel, is a pretty lie obnoxious words flood my mind none surface as i try to write it's too heavy of a subject to write it with simple words i lack the vocabulary needed to express really, the dictionary lacks it
i want to always be the one who walks out because you don't deserve to watch me cry. i want to always be the one who tells you you're not worth it, because i'm worth it; i'm fucking worth it. and i don't ever want to feel this feeling. i never want to cry these tears. i wish i'd never have to feel this pain or know the truth of all those years.
now they were back where they started. she thought she'd had the confidence, or maybe the fear, to keep her mouth shut, but she didn't. maybe she never would. she didn't know why he so blatantly lied to her. didn't he know that she knew all his secrets? and didn't he know that talking would be the only way to solve the problem?
she felt so vulnerable and so trapped in this lonely place. sometimes she felt that she'd always feel lonely with him. other times, lying in bed with him, she wondered who he was. how did they ever get this far without really knowing each other? she felt as if he knew her inside and out, and yet she oftentimes hid her inner feelings from him as if maintaining her power that way. in their dream world, they knew everything about each other and they could be open about all of it. in reality, they were fighting to hold onto their secrets and suffering because of it.
she didn't want to keep trying, because he never did. she found herself drawn to him, especially when he was turning away from her. maybe this was her curse and she would forever be running after him like an old dog.
Location: Hub Cities, Anywhereville, United States
we are girls who feel the pain of broken hearts, confused and torn and sometimes just ecstatic. but everyone has secrets, so we write with handles and pretend that our secrets are just entertaining lies.