Young Adult Angst: Revisited

I have a Word document in which I have copy and pasted everything I have written since high school.  Well, not “everything” but only those things which could be referred to as poetry.  I prefer to refer to them as my “writings.”  I’m sure many of us have done the same and have volumes of bad teenage poetry stored away in our closets or our parents’ basements.

I think I will start occasionally sharing some of the “writings” I find interesting.  After all, growth and personal development is the theme behind this blog o’ mine.  (What? You thought it was all about self-indulgence and vanity?!)

This one, I believe, was from approximately 2003 or early 2004.  This would put me at twenty-one tender years of age.  At this point in my life, I was going through some things I was keeping to myself.  The result?  Hostile, violent written images.

* * *

she says she’ll stay
maybe one more time
at the most.
she says this is getting to be
too much
and she needs
not to need this.
but it’s difficult for her to know any better.
it’s hard to walk away
when your fingers are nailed to his skin
and his teeth are digging into you.
it’s hard to think clearly
when things feel so good,
even when it hurts so much
worse during the lulls
when she is not there.
every fucking touch is a burn
through three layers of skin
and it takes weeks
for the healing process to begin.
it doesn’t matter.
she’ll get burned again.
and she’ll like it
while she tries to pull away.
she’ll like it
when she blacks out
and when he pulls her wrists to her sides.
she’ll like it
when she doesn’t even know
it is happening.
he doesn’t know any better,
so why should she?
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