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10:43 PM - Saturday, Sept. 17, 2005
My Constant Shadow
I see the scars slashed across my skin
like a faded memory that won't go away.
I am not sad.
I don't feel
darkanxiousparanoidlost.
I just want out
... out of this relationship,
but he looms over me a constant shadow.
I push him away.
He only laughs in my face.
My secret.
My shame.

He holds my hand,
pressing his fingers into
the strength of my grasp.
My nails dig deep
into his chocolate brown skin.
I don't want this,
but I can't let go.

He whispers inside my head,
you don't know love.
You can't know love.
Not as long as I'm always
inside of you,
and I will always be
inside of you
no matter how hard you try
to push me out.

I forget he's there
following me around
everywhere I go, the
kitchenbathroomlivingroomoffice.
Here.
Or there.
He finds me and I run away.
Run away from the memories.
Run away from the thoughts.
Run away from the past.
Run away. Run away. Run away.

And I am running.
Running away from his white washed walls
with the peeling paint,
the tan colored chair
with the cigarette burns,
the old couch covered
with smoke and sex.

Away from his body
pressed hard against mine,
the taste of his alcohol
soaked breath against my lips,
the feel of his cock
sliding deep inside me
while my screams turn into cries
and my cries turn into sobs
and my sobs turn into silence.

I see the scars slashed across my skin.
My secret.
My shame.
My constant shadow.
Always finding his way back inside my head.

 

 

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