She's Not Coming Back

TW: Mentions of assault.

Girl girl girl girl.

Girl walked into the party because for the first time in a while she felt alive. Girl only knew a life of what was sin and what wasn't. Punishment and damnation, and the Garden of Eden, no in between. Girl started to meet boys. Silly boys. And just that- boys. Girl didn't realize her beauty, her energy, her mind, at the time. She was still locked away within herself, waiting to shed her skin. Girl tried so hard to be like other girls, girl made friends with the darkness, girl didn't understand… She didn't understand that when he pried her thighs open that she was never coming back. She didn't understand that when the dirty rotten wooden door closed that she'd be tainted. Girl found solace in the words of drunken shouts, whiskey grunts, cherry stained kisses, techno lullabies, and oxycontin dances.

Girl girl girl girl.

Girl walked home alone. Girl could see her breathe but no friends in sight. Girl run for a long time. Running hasn't seemed to stop her. Girl found lovers. Lovers with empty shells, lovers that could never love her back. Girl wanted to fill her holes and find puzzle pieces that didn't fit. Girl got drunk every weekend. Girl couldn't see past her fingertips. Girl used to think that if she threw up all of her death eater soul that maybe she'd live. Girl got her heartbroken. Girl liked mirrors. Girl distanced herself. Girl found a knife. Girl was treated like glass. Girl cut her wrists. Girl wasn't coming back.

Girlgirlgirlgirl.

Girl can't see past her fingertips. Smash bottles, smash, girl taught herself to rage. Girl stands in front of the mirror and can't find the little girl she used to be. She hung pictures of herself all around the walls and still couldn't spot the only person she'd known so well her entire existence. Girl couldn't be found.

Girl wondered. Always two extremes. Her dead body with her soul dwelling over it and her beating heart, racing as she smiled and held the nameless child of her dreams. Girl dreamed in darkness and in light. Girl dopes up, and showers to forget. Girl wants to forget the silly boys, the lovers, the tainting, the hollowed shells, the numbness pressing on her chest. Girl wants to find her little self. Girl doesn't want big pharma pills, she doesn't want rum nights, or cocaine clouds to sleep on. Girl isn't coming back…

Who could come back from this…

Girl walks. On red soil. Her path has now been painted in crimson and poppy tears.

~By Nova Binx

This piece was written out of fury, epiphanies, shadow work, and an iron-clad will to thrive and not just survive. #MeToo I see you, I feel you, I am you. Don't wade in your darkness for too long.

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