skin cells get replaced in around 21 days. all it takes is 21 days and i will have a completely new me; one that you've never laid a goddamn hand on. i will be reborn. i will be stronger than ever before knowing not a trace of you is on my delicate skin.
i crave for my thoughts about you to end, to fall off and have new memories form in place of all the times something about you enters my mind. your voice, your actions, every little thing about you now leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
but you can't replace memories. they're there with you forever.
you're trapped.
watching this mental film reel of everything you wish to forget;
everything going downhill, senses blurred, doors slamming, muffled yelling, insults thrown around like violent attacks. i always wonder if you regret what you screamed at me through a locked door as you tried to break the knob, dying to get in and confront me face-to-face? because i still remember you calling me a worthless fucking cunt to this day. i remember the venom in your voice so well that it might as well be leaking onto my tongue and poisoning me.
sour taste in my mouth
do you remember the quiet afternoon when we were cuddling in your room and as the sun was lowering in the sky, so was your hand down my body. gripping my breasts and then slipping down to my thighs and up my skirt, pushing my panties to the side and forcing your way into my warmth. you hushed my pleas to stop and told me that if i loved you, id let you touch me like this. i did love you, so i shut up and let you have your way with my unwilling form. when you were finished you slid your fingers out of me and forced them into my mouth.
sour taste
but i'll also never forget the days when we walked to your house together holding hands and talking about the future, how we're gonna grow old together and you'll still love me when i'm no longer young and beautiful. you'd also always remind me of this to win me back after we fought and you tore me to shreds. it still hurts when i think about the first time you punched me in the face. i had no idea you could hit so hard and leave such a bad bruise. thank god it was during a vacation, i guess.
you hit me multiple times and yet i still crawled back to you in the name of love.
you're trapped
"bitch"
"ugly"
"worthless"
"whore"
"piece of shit"
"worst girlfriend"
all to be replaced by a tight hug, a kiss on the forehead and those five words that made everything alright at the time, "i'm sorry. i love you."
trapped
a knife to my throat that you kept in your room to self-harm, my clothes mostly off, another night of non-consensual sex that you talked me into with sweet talk and reminding me this is what love is. another night with fingers and a tongue forced between my thighs.
sour
trap
my first suicide attempt in an effort to escape you. i took whatever pills i could find, wrote my note, and laid down hoping it'll be successful and i'll feel my organs stop one by one.
hoping it'll be successful and
i will be reborn
but i lived. after we talked you promised you'd change for the better and i believed you.
and you told the truth. we went back to how we were; happy and in love.
love stories aren't real, though. love doesn't fucking last and now i damn well know that. you didn't change like you said you would, no, of course not. instead you gave me a minute in heaven and a lifetime in hell.
in june you threw me to the floor and punched me so hard i swore i saw stars, but you still had the kindness in you to tell me how pretty i looked while i was fucked up before you got up and walked away. i stayed on the ground until my mother arrived to pick me up.
that night we broke up and i never felt more empty and numb.
but through the numbness i felt
reborn
