on my skin is invisible ink of the names of my pieces I wear them put well even no one notices they still hurts me deep on my skin with hands once touch me bruises aren’t seen by others and I smell has become a distraction often times he is my happiness to conceal this feeling that has ruined my entire life
my past is still my present
my past will be my future
because i do not have the power to be free
i do not have the power to forget
so here i am wearing my scars on my sleeve
About the Creator
Killing him slowly
There’s an intruder in my house again. He stumbles through the door, wet carrier bags in hand. He’s bought me offerings. I show my appreciation, letting him caress my beautiful body. He wants to touch me. I rub myself against his legs. He sighs, dropping the bags. He can’t resist touching me. Running his hand slowly down my spine, I arch my back towards his caress, let out a low purr. It’s what we both need.
By N J Delmasa day ago in Horror
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