My ice cream melted

As he slammed the door I could remember the stickiness the touched my lips. Sweet bitter raspberry, how I hate the flavor. I remember moving my arms to wipe my face but it spread the mess across my cheek. I left it there, from what I can recall, and got up to look at the damage it caused.

They say the mirror does not lie but I digress that such a thing could show what I have tried so hard to repress. The raspberry upon my lips stands so pretty against against my skin. My eyes don’t show how bitter it taste because I do not remember them showing anything. A blank slate. A broken shape. I can remember trying to brush my hair into place.

It’s messy bun that I tied that day. So proud because it frame my face in a way I never thought before. But the raspberry stuck to the strands is all I can remember as I removed the bands. The bands I had picked with him in mind. Coupled with the blush, I felt divine.

But he wasn’t home like he was before. It was my fault and nothing more. When the monster within grabbed my hand and pulled me to the floor. Raspberry kisses on both of our cheeks. As the door groans and creaks.

My ice cream as melted, upon my thighs. I can see it in the mirror that I wish would lie. Raspberry glistens on my lips. Bitter is which memories keep.

Go ahead and sue me

I think it sounds beautiful, the screaming. I want you to keep begging. Even the score between husband and whore. Come! Let me make a man out of you. One all the little boys and little girls can look up to. Scream a bit louder so the neighbors can hear. Fight a bit faster so they can know you feel fear. Because I want to make a man out of you. Society may judge me but they will never stand. You, a pathetic creature, have proven yourself a half man. So yes, let me hear you. Let me feast on your tears. No one will help you because no one else cares.

Petty Poet dialogue 

Explain in detail who I am ^-^ 

A petty poet

CW: Some people take job they don’t really want. They do it for the happiness of others. Sometimes these jobs cause them trouble. They suffer and are judged for their deeds while others are still seen in a graceful light. It isn’t fair. It is often hard to see if it is even worth it. 

Would you die for your child? I know I would. I would sell my very soul if it meant her happiness. She doesn’t seen to see the darkness I wade through for her. All she needs to do is enjoy her life. So many people hold jobs that bring them pain. 

Some people are forced to sell their very souls, their bodies even. Wouls you be willing to risk it all for your child? I know I would. 

Shame me more

Was once a petty little whore

Shoved by unholy hands

Fighting for remembrance 

Unvield face yet revealed lust

Shame me more

Always such a petty little whore

Filled with distrust

Take me to a place I can’t see

Hurt me until you’ve had your fill

Judge me more

Judge me still

Shame on me for trying to feel

Tried to stop but small hands grasp

Beg for more so it must last

Shame on me

For trying to surivive

Unholy hands fuck me through the night

Little smiling faces

One saving grace

Night filled with bloody passion 

So they may stay that way. 

Update: Still working on some stuff. Hopeing to finish my story soon. Well it will be a few short stories and a bunch of poems. I have an idea of what it will be about but right now I am just writing random stuff.

 I think I want to write about mental illness but abuse has been in my lately. I want to be the voice for those who have been told to shut up.