I guess, in a way, it was easier to make me feel like I didn't exist inside. That in some way, it was more efficient to break down emotionally and hide behind trauma and rage. More comfortable to break my spirit and tell me I'm a whore (and worthless) to my face. And, in the same breath, expect my heart to embrace your word-like razor blades.
Yeah, I'd like you to come and get your things,
but it's hard, with this black eye, to look at your face. Feeling nothing between my rib cage where a heart once took its place.
I guess it's hard to feel because I can still see the bruises on my flesh inside of my inner biceps.
I guess I feel a little empty now.
You've taken my trust, respect and admiration for you.
And now there's nothing left.
© I.M "that girl muse"
About the Creator
©I.M. "That Girl," Inure Muse
Hi! I'm "That Girl Muse," author, artist, muse, poet, surrealist and spirit guide, who uses creativity as a means to heal the mind. Each poem's a lil' bit of Inure Muse's story @Find_the_muse & support my work. You can also book me online!
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