Skin

There are things they don't tell you 

about the recovery

Things they fail to speak

about the imprints

The mind is a powerful force

blacking out the previous pains

and forgetting even the most 

Innocent of tortures

But the skin...

the skin remembers

It remembers your rough hands

and the bruises left on my throat

The nerve endings never forget

firing pain upon pain

up the synapses to the brain 

that would eventually forget 

And the muscles

never forgot 

how to move

whenever you came near

They always knew to twist and pull

away from your hands

and those legs that could move too fast 

to see what joint

they would connect with first

My mind has forgotten you

has made you into nothing 

but my body will never stop reliving

the pain you caused it. 

Color

Color me bad

Color me good

Color me simply misunderstood

Fill in the lines

Scribble over my face

It's all "art" anyway, in your case

Make today sunny

Make tomorrow gray

Maybe I'll even be a rainbow someday

I've tried on all the colors

All the hues in the crayon box

And no matter how often you try to paint me

I'm still just plain ol' Cassie, in a tee and no socks 

I'm not into the glamour

Or the fake, fancy, stuff 

I want my fingers and toes in the garden 

I don't need to be filled with fluff

Lay me alone in the grass and the mud

Let me drift away at sea

My head is in the clouds

And my soul is finally free 

Paralysis

The struggle is in 

the fact 

that I fight

what I'm meant to be.

The depression & anxiety 

Bloom 

because the fear of 

the in-between

far exceeds 

the pain 

of life less travelled. 

Yet even still

I am paralyzed. 

Buried

I don't know how to ask you 

To not touch me tonight 

When it seems it's all you want to do

But my skin is screaming

With imprints from my past

And every time your skin grazes one

I feel a piece of myself 

Die. 

Abused

There are days 

when I cannot bear the thought

of being touched 

with love. 

Where a gentle touch

hurts. 

When love

burns. 

When kindness is

ugly. 

These are days

I'm reminded of 

the pain

that I loved.

Breaking

I am so used to 

Being the one that's broken

That I don't know if 

I know how to do 

The breaking

Alone

You will never be anyone's. 

Always your own,

Always looking,

and watching

Never waiting. 

Your eyes always move,

and your skin glows with some etheral,

"Stay the fuck away" glow.

But you were someone's once.

Someone whom you loved so hard,

that when you lost her,

she took you with her.

And now you're still hers,

but without her

so you belong 

Alone.