Semen ran down my leg in a photograph just for you 


The body memories are back, and I’m scared for you to know.

What will you think of me
When it’s two
In the morning
And I can’t sleep
From the memories.
When I start
To panic and shake
And my mind will
I might not know who you are.
I might push you away.
Or I might desperately need you
To fuck me, to make me forget.
Will you run?
Or will you wake up and hold me?
Will you take your time kissing
My body to remind
Me who is actually touching me.
Remind me that I’m safe with you.
And after you make me quiver
Under your tongue
I’ll look at you
Like you have saved me.
And I’ll swear your touch
Was the antidote
The whole God damned time.
And, Why did you take so
Long to love me?
Will you run?
If I show you my demons?
Could you trust me enough with yours?

Cold turkey

The first day it came back into my life I thought, oh it’s just a pill. What would the damage be?

The first time I did it a couple days in a row I would get a slight headache and feel sad when I ran out. I never linked the two.

Then I couldn’t be without it. Six months. Six months and I let my husband turn it into liquid and put it up my ass. Six months, and I didn’t get out of bed unless I had to. Far more comfy being high if I’m in bed coloring or writing or just sleeping in instead.  Six months and we should really be quitting soon. We spend 280 dollars a day. You make honest money so whats the problem? 

Six months and we fight every other day. Over if you took more than I did. Over the fact that when you come in from work you don’t want to make love to me like you used to. You don’t even wanna hug me or kiss me. I become annoying to you. I am lonely. So lonely. I’m not even high anymore. I just chase the aches and pain.

Six months and I’m so depressed that I could die. I really feel I could.  You tell me to stop being a baby. “You have nothing to be sad about, I provide you with all the drugs you could ever want.”

Six months and I tell you that I cried on the rug of our room for three hours because you told me I had no reason to be depressed. While you slpet like a baby. Did it feel good to fall asleep to the sounds of me wailing in distress?  I go into the bathroom. I pace. I cant think. I try to cut myself. I would really be much better off dead at this point. I will myself to die. To just never wake up.

Then I wake up. Its time to go to work. You take me. Say it was all confusing. You were so high you dont even remember what happened. You don’t say you are sorry.

Six months, and 2 weeks. You are calling me every name in the book. Whore, cunt, bitch. You tell me I’m crazy. No would ever love me cause I cry too much. Because I have so many daddy issues. You chase me around the room. You spit on me. I see your evil eyes for the first time as you cowar over me, as you push me down. You look like you wanna choke me with your hands out like that. And I cant even listen to your words anymore. I only see you. Or is that David?  This is confusing I’ve been here before when I was 10. Where am I. How old am I again? 22. OK.  Breathe. see. Figure out whats happening. His hand around my mouth to get me to stop crying.  I come back to. “GET AWAY FROM ME!” he wont leave the room. He wont.

A week has passed and he hasnt said he was sorry. Nothing has changed. I dont know this man. This man that I have loved for 5 years. This man who used to pick me flowers. This man who used to follow me with his guitar and sing me beautiful songs. This man who took liquid morphine and convinced me to let him put it up my ass. This man who says its my fault he buys more pills cause he cant see me suffer when I withdrawal.

This man begs me to stay. He understands now. He knows how badly he has been. Leaving me disappointed.  Not taking me seriously. Paying no attention to the fact that I am so lonely. So lonely. He never takes me out of the house with him. We never eat. All his money gets spent on pills. Sometimes only a half.

When I tell him I have to go. That I dont see him the same. That he hurt me and took advantage. He tries to bribe me with drugs. He pawns another gun. He comes over and fake cries.  He tells me I’m a hypocrite if I go. That after all I have put him through if I leave thats just unfair. I tell him these drugs ruined us and im ready to quit. He is not. He says he is, but uses evey excuse to not.

Today is day two. Day two of no painkillers. Cold turkey.  Today is day 6 that I haven’t been in my own bed in the only place that I’ve called home. Today is hard. Today I have to come up with the courage to tell my husband, who basically raised me that I cant see him again. I cant. I cant see him cry anymore.  I cant listen to him try to make me promise him. I cant let him promise me that within these 6 days he has changed.  That he finally understands. Why is it so hard to say good bye.  Why cant I just never see him again. People do it everyday. 

Cold turkey.  This blows. I wish I smoked or drank. Or that I could sleep through it all.

My trouble maker

I spend my days
Searching for
Inside holy texts
Searching for something
That might convince you to
Make your way back to me.
But God never spoke
Of us in that kind of way.
And, I just don’t see the love in that.

You could say I’m waiting for you
To make your move,
But I guess no move, is a move
If you look at it in the light.

But don’t you dare tell me you can’t remember
How we laughed all night,
Having marathons, and talking about our addictions
Like we could see a future inside this moment of weakness
How you knew all my secrets,
How you were my secret
How you whispered to me
And you always knew how to talk
Me into my biggest sins
Then disappeared while I faced
The consequences

I wish it was enough of an excuse
To say
That you taste like someone I once
Knew, but no longer can
Remember his name.
You were my everything.
Yet, you were never mine to have.
Thanks for the lessons
My little trouble maker.


Sometimes in my insomniac episodes
I will stay up and think of you.
The way you used to touch me
And how the promises you didn’t
Need to say out loud, terrified me.
One day I would be older.
One day I would understand.
That the space between my legs was not meant for your hands.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
I know.
I know, I’ve heard it all before
‘What was done to you
You’ll do to them.’
But even today my sexuality
Still clings to the
Only truth it has known.
It doesn’t matter if I moaned
Or if I screamed and
Tried to get away
You still had your fingers
In places they shouldn’t be.
In some kind of way
I still belong to you.
The child in me aches, every time I hear your name.                                 

It was silly for me to believe
That one day I’d be free
From that mad man’s

Page 213


Sunday dinners
Mr. Boran’s eyes never left me
He did not
Enhance my beauty.
He was on his knees.
Damp kisses
Growing passion.
His lips moved up.
I rose quickly.
Glazed with desire I wanted
Him at my command.
Remnants of his love. Kisses.
I felt my womanhood.
Horrid; the future
Of my own unhappiness.
Mr. B
Distanced himself from me
I caught him
And his eyes… Angry,
That he could not make it for dinner.