"I love you.." He'd mutter,
his hand stroking my hairline gently.
it felt like nails,
blood dripping from my forehead,
i didn't feel comforted in my fathers arms anymore,
It was a disgusting screech that left his lips,
No longer a comforting coo,
His eyes dark and monstrous with Malicious intentions.
I looked for my father in boys,
In men.
In 19 year old boys,
boys which only wanted me for there own pleasure, who would only text me when I was drunk out of my own mind as I'd suffer.
They didn't know my story,
they didn't know how my nails would claw at whoever showed me the affection my father did,
the blood that left my jaws.
That feeling of loosing yourself for affection.
— H.R.P
YOU ARE READING
poetry
Poetrypoems of mine, some I write in the moment, Some as confessions, some as things held close to me- this is my story, my story which I share with cautiousness. Full disclosure!! : references of abuse, trauma, self Harm, suicide, and depression.
