to the dead stars in my eyes

she said it years ago, before i understood the lines of his face
echoed in my own; a mirror image with a cunt...
how's that for fucking narcissism?
you don't need to make sense of it now,
i sure as shit haven't.

she was right,
in some ways, i'll
never be the girl
a man keeps for
longer than it takes
for his cum to dry
on her skin ...
... maybe he knew it
when i opened
my doe eyes
for the first time
& let out that breathless
newborn cry

i think he fucked the self-respect right of me
& i'm out of time
trying to find it
somewhere between sunday mornings & that day
she stopped calling me by name;
they knew i was nothing but a whore,
i'm just living up to the expectation,
just passing the time

you looked at me
like the dirt on my skin
didn't matter,
like you couldn't see
what i spend hours
trying to scrub away;
i am tired of the burn
behind my eyelids
i just don't know
how to make it stop

i own a collection of men's dress shirts,
different sizes, all too big for my size 6 frame.
they had names & proclivities but i only remember
the colour of their eyes,
& the feel of the cotton against my naked skin in the hours after...
... sometimes, it was just like spooning.
maybe i really am a slut
but i decide who fucks me now.
Written by _shadoe_ (katyusha)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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Skyla_Schizo silentrose QuietusQuill
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