Dead GirlMature

How one party can wreak havoc

A familiar shared kiss on the wooden staircase 

Swaying, and spinning from the plastic cupped drink

Something known, a 'safe and secure base' 

When I forget to be me, or how clearly to think.

Next pulled somewhere outside, freezing, much colder

Not innocent, sweet, desirable or naive, knew he'd try 

He's not hesitant,didn't think he'd be, he's much older 

Well versed with the sigh, the chase, the lie.

"Tonight it's just been you"

"Your the only one I want" 

"Why won't you believe things that are true?"

He says as he leans in, nonchalant.

Like a current modern day, ruined, tatty, tired sonnet 

He whispers harsh, as he claws mud through my hair 

Lifts my legs, pushes me against a car bonnet.

Tell him, twice...and again.... how this isn't fair

Pushing his lips too far into mine 

I realise how easily I let him lift me and spoil me

How it took him really no time 

To see what i was and ignore my weak hearted plea.

Next, kisses in the dark with his younger brother 

Head spinning as I teach him I'm cheap 

You'd think i'd learnt, but it takes another 

To show me I've gotten in too deep.

So In the morning I strip my skin 

Leave it to fester on the floor 

Bang my head to forget where I've been 

slap my face to wake up as I walk out the door. 

But I'm still muddy, in my bones 

As I pass by others lying in lesser regret

Among, vomit, sleeping bags and lost phones 

I pray that somehow they'll forget.

Each handprint is engraved into my face 

Each pathetic struggle remains in that house 

Left myself, broken and dead inside that place 

Silent and speechless as a forgotten yet still present mouse.

I made another mistake love, 

Because it was so easy to do, 

It only took a night to dispose of

The 'Me' that was worthy of you. 

Yet, this is what I do because I'm used and cheap 

This is what I do because love, I can't keep 

When it comes to being weak it's just too steep 

Better to pretend to believe in something untruthfully deep. 

I walked home from the grave 

With weeds in my hair, dirt between my toes 

Crying no tears for no one can save 

A girl whose enjoying it and already knows,

She's not meant to fit, be vulnerable or belong

She's not meant to be beautiful, or sane in the head

She's programmed to be hard, harsh and strong 

Because after all...the girl we mean is already dead.

The End

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