you liked to talk about my trauma
like it was your newly renovated house
talked about the moments
i told you
that i felt i was being watched
like they were kitchen knives
on your marvelous counter
you dressed it prettily
when i asked you to cover up
close the curtains
as if
it were a lesson to myself
to protect you
you took the things i saw
in stride and pride
and told all your friends about it
only to find
that i was running out of
breath on the floor
like a fish out of water
you took my scars
turned it into
battle stories
took my battle wounds
covered it in your favorite flowers
took my ripped out heart
and used it as your trophy
showed the bleeding organ
as proof that somebody cared
but then once it got too bloody
you left it in the trash
let it soak
in its own blood
ignoring the person
who wanted their heart back
their story back
you took my trauma
as your play toy
and threw it away
once you got bored
and i think
that's the reason
i wear my wounds proudly
because maybe
you'd care enough
to use me as your trophy again.
YOU ARE READING
the dawn of us
Puisicover by duvetjae a series of written poems about love, trauma, and moving on. disclaimer: this books discusses many serious topics, read with caution.
