my fault: a poem


It was my fault.
Dark red. On my lips. On my nails. On my thighs.

It was my fault.
Dark red. Sound of my pleas. Aura around his skin.

It was my fault.
Dark red. Blood under my nails. Beating of my heart.


His eyes, dark green. So calm, peaceful.
Turned into lust, malice.

His muscular, gentle hands.
Wrapped around my throat, tugging at my dress.

What hurts more than my body
is that I still found him so beautiful.


Sickly sweet smell of his breath.
Salty from sweat. Like the ocean.

I close my eyes. I am the ocean.
Vast. Calm. Strong.

The waves crash inside of me.
He is done. It was my fault.

Salty from tears, I taste them as they trickle. I am the ocean.
Deep. Troubled.


He said I wanted this.
It was my dark lips. Dark nails. The feel of my thighs.

I wanted this.
Arch in my back. Curl of my fingers. Hunger in my eyes.

I wanted this.
My words said no. My body said yes.


It was my fault.

He told me I wanted it.

It was what I wore.

What I said.

How I laughed.

It was my fault.


It was my fault.
That’s what he said.
It was my fault.


It is my fault.
Lying on the cold, hard floor.

Scrubbing at my skin.
Red raw. Erasing the memories.

For the reason. For the broken pieces of my heart.


An aching heart, shaking hands.
I held a piece of my broken soul.

A tear fell, a cry escaped.
I could not let it go.

I kissed it hard, I kept it safe.
Waiting, patiently. For a home within my heart.


It was my fault.
I am naked, scared, alone.
It is cold, I am weak. It still hurts.

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