Bloody Fingers, Broken Mind

A L O N E

Pools of brown so underrated
And uneducated.
Delicate chocolate eyes roaming,
All full of love and never loathing.
Soft skin dotted with little imperfections, while undeserving hands roamed and taught unheard lessons.

He touched her body more than her soul,
And with each caress, each graze,
The more he stole.

Ecstasy filled her eyes every time they set upon him,
Drowning her in pleasure each night when she did not know how to swim.

Sex became her hobby—slowly became her passion, and inevitably became
Her.
And once he left, it all happened in a colorless, emotionless
Blur.

His fingers tracing her figure while she lay in bed by night,
Then her body, mind, and soul left alone in the rising morning light.

And just like every time when she got used to feeling wanted,
He took the sweet feeling back as if
It were never hers to have.

Like his affection, his touch, and the graze of his fingertips on her soft skin was all by accident.

A tragedy never meant to happen.

A pure heart never meant to break.

And yet the only thing filling her thoughts after he was long gone,
Was of how to fill the empty slots.

Another man, another bed.
Another heartbreak, and more red.

With a bleeding heart and fresh tears,
She was ready for another numb "I love you" to fill her ears.

But what she never understood was that this was not womanhood.

Being a born a woman with handed down power,
She was built to be a tower.

But naivety blinded her,
And he destroyed her as if she never were.

Alone every night
In a different bed,
A different man;
She was in a race way outran.

It's tragic to see, because she never really saw the truth:
She was her own before she was anyone else's.