The wreckage of her soul is poetic. Her verses cascade from her eyes in iambic pentameter. Her survival is a fiery resilience, that engulfs her parchment; each page set aflame and extinguished in her storm. There is beauty in how she rises from her ruins, in the midst of her own destruction. Advertisements
I’ve learned that no matter how good things are externally, there will always be an internal fight for people like me. The wonder of the darkness is that it comes with an equivalent light. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to determine which will be dominant in our lives or for how long. You’re not alone.
April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month and I’m going to tell my story. If you have been sexually assaulted and you need a friend, I’m just one click away. There are many resources available and before I begin, I feel I should share a few: – RAINN (Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network) – National […]
You pulse through my veins. Icy, as you trek the lines your fingers once graced. Left behind is the chill of the memory of your touch. Aching is the hollow amid my breasts; aching for you. Left behind is the heart you shattered. You fucking broke every inch of my being. You walked away, never […]