cloth pressed against sticky skin…

he pulled me to the floor and slipped my fingers into his. ’shhh…he’s watching’ he whispered in my left ear as he breathed hard against my back. i could feel the heat radiating across his chest, the sweat slicking my dress to my back as he hugged me close to him. sticky breath on my exposed shoulder and his fingers laced in mine. leaning back slowly, my back filled the cavity of his chest and i slipped my mind into the endless deviation that he creates for me.

i have been running recently away from him and the person he created me into. he’s tired of his plaything, and he wants me back. in the past i would have gone back to him with arms held open, but i am now a changed girl…the bruises and the cuts have healed and my heart has grown blacker with each passing day. he has been replaced and the man who breathes across my exposed shoulders is replacing the only man i have ever exposed my soul to.

its funny that we have come full circle and that i am rejecting the man who I had craved for years, for someone who i refuse to expose my past to. this new man…he watches me with a genuine awe that makes my heart beat faster…the way he holds my hand, one long pinky finger linked with mine makes me melt into a unfinished gelato…creamy and smooth. he has yet to actually touch me in a way that is inappropriate, but his voice on the crackling phone makes me smile.

who is watching me? and how does this warm body know i’m being watched? i wonder…

should i be concerned? or afraid?

i wish my body would make up its mind…

protecting innocents while carving out traditions in blood…

its a new feeling…this rawness…that my heart has left while it bled out…instead of an open wound. an open wound i could dress and tie up in a pretty bow…but this is something i can not contain or touch. it hurts to suck in breath, and the fact that i have not eaten anything solid in a week is not really helping me function…

i have sinned so badly my parents are afraid to leave me alone in the house. they found out a few days ago…they realized that my raping, my addictions and my talks of him were not fake, but so real that i bear the marks on my body. my hips have the claw marks of my many constitutional users, but who can blame them? they have tried to talk me out of coming back to that dirty mattress, the old man actually begged me to go home one night when i showed up two hours early, but i waited with a glass of water and my head on my knees…i am unbelievably tainted. old traditions come into play…questions have no answers. they have rightly questioned everything that i am…my being and my soul…the funny thing is that i have no real answers to give them. i have none to give myself.

how can they understand the relationship that i have had with him? the depraved and insistent love that i found in him, has completed me. i am incomplete only in the essence that he is no longer here in my wake, but he has given me something that many do not have access to…he has given me the ability to be ME..in my purest, rawest and natural sense. i am broken, but functional because i have finally realized that i can live on without having a sane look on life. i can move forward because of the people who depend on me…there is life that i have to grab a hold of and rip apart with my bare shaking teeth, because my hands tremble when i look at them.

i am skewed in my perception and realize that i have no sense of boundaries…which is interesting because as a child i lived within constructed boundaries. the need to fit in is gone…it is now the need to not fall apart, which is surprisingly more harder to achieve. there is no magic cure…my dreams are harsher and bloodier than ever before. my carving has stopped because i have been banned on punishment of being disowned…i am no longer allowed to carve and release what ever i can because my parents refuse to have me mutilate myself.

i am more concerned about my youngest love…she has been moulded in my image…we are so alike it is frighting. i know what path she will walk on, and i refuse to have her hurt as i have. she is adept with her blades – her collection is quite impressive for someone so little. she is craving a pain so harsh that she will walk through hell to get it, but she has no idea why she is craving it. i know the hell that will open up before her, and i do not want her beautiful flesh to be carved as mine. she is an innocent who is taking things at face value and believing what is out there…i want to protect her and save her from turning into something i’m afraid of most…ME.