No Shame November

Naivety. Believing that ambulances were free and pure white Christmases.

Naivety turns into cold nights without blankets. Innocence slowly changing into ignorance. It is that, that kills me.


We were desperate. Any little thing we felt, we called love. I always wanted to be the one to meet him waiting for me. Not me waiting hours outside, feeling like I've made a mistake.

"If it feels right then it'll just come natural."

Forced.

Everything was forced.

 Everything within myself screamed no but I dragged my body through it. Aimlessly. Shamefully. At least he always was. Never held my hand. Nor did he tell anyone.

A secret.
I obliged.
He can't be totally at fault. I'm the one who lied. To myself. Whole-hearted deception with a mask painted on to make it seem like nothing was wrong.

This is love. Lust eats you alive from the inside. I'm hollow. Body flailing and swaying. Another piece stolen, shattered, and spread. Who is she now? On her knees frantically trying to put the pieces back together while he glares down at her and nods in pleasure. Yet no trace of it on his eyes. This is happy. You become so tuned into his satisfaction, you neglect yours.

It doesn't matter, you don't matter.

No longer hanging from a thread, but endlessly falling. I'm not sure if I want to fall into nothing or finally plummet. I'd rather dangle. At least there was some kind of connection there. No matter how thin.

Hunger. Never satiated. Keep going. Don't stop. Overdose. Refill. Start again. "Do you like it?" I hate it.

Lost. So far gone. Disconnect. Disengage. No warmth here. Just come (on) already. Funny how this all happens while we're the most "connected."

The insidious onslaught of guilt.

Every.

Single.

Time.

I never knew why. It plagued me. Shame follows her. Walking in as one person. Shirt tossed. Jeans strewn. Peeling off. Picking off more and more pieces. Walking out another.

Half-wrapped present. Half baked. Half sewn. Half glued. Half. Half-personed. Who am I?

Lost. Arms and legs bound. Lips silenced by the pain. I creep inside the recesses of my brain and try to remove myself. I can't stop the tears as the already-crumbling finally crumbles. In his hands. To my expense.

I can never be a flower.

It's hard to believe the word "beautiful." Even harder to believe the word "love."

Not when trapped,desperate,shame,dirty,fucked,ugly,putrid all rush in at the same time. It's hard to see the "ever-after" with "happily" tacked on somewhere. Where's the fun in forever if it doesn't exist? What's the point in tomorrow if it never comes?

But I'm free now. Right? No longer chained. Only by memory am I reminded. I guess I'm free.

I feel so funny. I feel so sad.