i wasn't even
showing skin,
showing the parts
of my body
that were most
sacred to even
those who never knew me.
i was in a long gown,
dark blue,
with hints of gold,
that shone brightly
against
the scars
that covered my skin.
but still,
i was vulnerable.
she was vulnerable.
my stomach fluttering
with excitement of what
the final moments
of my senior year would hold,
i hadn't even had the
chance of turning eighteen.
yet,
his hands,
ones that had scared me,
followed down my dress,
grabbed my pieces
that i hadn't even
let
others touch.
the pieces that i held
so close
to my heart.
my pedals,
my thorns,
my stems,
my flowers.
ones that had never
been damaged.
now lay black,
wilted within my hands.
i trembled harshly,
i knew he could feel it.
yet he continued,
until my voice
was no longer my own.
my flower,
no longer mine,
for i am scared.
as the bullets,
of firsts
hit me,
and kill me.
i wasn't even showing,
i wasn't even screaming,
i wasn't even pleading,
i wasn't even crying
out for you.
i had never said yes.
-zmh
YOU ARE READING
the ruins of me
Poetryi love you; said me every time foolishly. if you see any grammer mistakes, please do not hesitate to contact me politely about them! also credit to whoever may have taken the picture of the flowers for my cover, I did edit it a bit but other than...
