June 27, 2012 (Age 14)
Dear Diary,
I traveled far, until I had reached the border.
The small city remained in the back of my head;
I gained speed.
I had pulled over to rest my injured head (and heart),
I encountered a small bar.
"Mikes", it was called.
The small skirt I had worn since Father's death was even smaller now.
My thighs were spread,
a vast emptiness in between them.
Where had my skin gone?
Where had my logic gone?
Where had my heart gone?
The roof was exposed,
out in the open air.
I felt free.
The amber colored liquid burned my throat,
yet I continued to down glasses.
I felt e m p t y.
I felt n u m b.
I felt n o t h i n g.
I l i k e d i t.
That scared me, Elle.
YOU ARE READING
the diary of a teenage whore
Poetrya girl who told them all it was okay to leave, but cried when they left. ☆ amazing cover by @amethystnebula ☆
