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VII Things
VII Things
I. Number One
teetering at the foot of the railing
staring blankly at the bottomless pit rippling under me
the intertwining hues of blue and green
kissing & embracing, then cursing & beating each other
until the conflict for dominance resolves
to a raging, ravenous tint
tinged with the faint light reflecting off the streetlights
II. Number Two
seizing the frozen silver bar -
parallel and glimmering -
tracing the moist trails of tears
shaping the rotund, cylindrical shape
twisting
turning
thrusting
enters my reflection
tossed into all different directions
III. Number Three
a twinkle catches my gaze
radiating from a small speck in the sky
She gently turns my head upwards towards the beautiful source
beautiful.
ha.
what He called me as He allured me
what He called me as He held the razor to my angular collarbone
what He called me as He stroke my matted hair tainted with the blood
spurting from the stinging tear perpendicular to the
corner of my mouth
She was telling me to come to her,
to join her
IV. Number Four
my white nightgown
pranced about my haggard figure
no womanly curves
which He cursed and forced
to starve for a Coca-Cola shape
to starve for ironed, straight hair
to starve for His satisfaction
blinding me
cuffing me
choking me
to His image
to His threshold
killing me
slowly
slowly
s
l
o
w
l
y
V. Number Five
my bra strap slid off
right off
oh so easily
oh so vulnerably
sliding past the consecutive
lineup of bruises
battered
tainted
unwanted
shameful
purplish scabs,
intricately inscribed
by the spurned backhands,
strikes,
flung to the ground,
layered by a picnic table pattern:
remnants of enraged attempts
to scratch away at my contaminated
skin:
the thin layer
that did so little
to guard me from the
beast
VI. Number Six
my hair caressing the nape of my neck
frighteningly resembling the
rough calloused fingers
crawling up my spine,
outlining each protruding bone,
followed by the thwacks
the final gale
stifles me
strikes me
inhale
exhale
inhale
exhale
merciless wind
pricking
pinching
punishing me for my wrongdoings:
for being weak
for being vulnerable
for being worthless
for being a girl
for being me
inhale
exhale
inhale
exhale
VII. Number Seven
a desperate climb
over the one barrier
between me and my
final breath
until a desperate plea
rung in my ears -
so familiar
to the tongue,
a ferocious clutch on my wrist
the wind whipping
batches of hair
interweaved
interlaced
together
our eyes interlocked
but this time
the ferocity of the Devil
turned into the ferocity of the angel
i found a new Him
Him was my savior
my savior saved
me
you’re beautiful
he said
you’re beautiful
he said
cutting my binds
throwing the razor away
feeding me my famish
reviving me
he saved me
Him
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This raw writing can be interpreted in many different ways. But this is my meaning of "to be lost and to be found."