ssj4este

[ssj4este]

my skin was the fabric you chose to use every night.

I’d lay and watch as you carefully sowed me whole. Putting my pieces together.

At night I wondered what you would make of me. The look in your face, hard to decipher.

Was it carefulness? cautiousness?

cunning never crossed my mind.

every. night. I was ripped and pulled as you changed your mind

Burning my skin as you pulled at my strings.

My body mangled as you sowed away with your needle.

It has to be worth it.

I had to be worth it.

You were fixing me.

Right?

And then one day you took a step back and admired your creation.

I looked in the mirror stiff as a board.

Only to be met with an empty reflection.

I didn’t want to move. It was painful to move. But the strings attached to your fingers pulled and I had no choice so i moved.

My mouth spoke but they weren’t my words

And you smiled

So I smiled

and in that moment I decided

yes.

this is me.

the pain and aching of my limbs

the burn in my skin, the screaming of my brain,

I silenced.

You placed me in your bed,

A doll never felt so alive.

This was the reward and I was yours.

And then one day too soon,

you took a step back and looked at your creation

and you decided you suddenly saw it as it was

a mangled doll, open from its seems,

tattered. used.

So what’s the use? you grabbed it from its arms

and pulled and pulled and pulled

but it didn’t feel and it didn’t see

it never cried and it never even screamed

and now there it lays.

a pile of skin and a pile of limbs

will it ever be used again?

It can only hope.

[ssj4este]

The warmth

In between our bodies is comfort.

Our gentle touch refuge.

Hands forever empty.

Our embrace cold as the alcohol,

The genesis to our nights.

Can’t say that we love,

Can’t say that we don’t need.

What do you call it

When we share our secrets

In the dead of night,

When our bodies meet.

Sharing whispers

Only they understand.

Our electric hearts

Beating,

Disconnected,

Pounding.

Distant.

We don’t notice a sound.

Hear a thought.

Not the rushing of our blood

Nor the silent

Desperate

Screams of our toungues.

The numbness

In which we melt in to,

forever a wall

Separating

What we feel

From

What we know.

Do we give in,

Prisoners

Of our needs and wants?

Do we submit,

Slaves

Of our past and pride?

Do we withdraw,

Masters of solitude,

Masters

of our thoughts?

To be a lonely winner

To be a selfish loser

That is the question.

**starting this blog with an original**

#poetry #writing #writers on tumblr #new at this #idk what im doing