by Lauren Waugh
My face is the reminder of past mistakes,
Like the bastard child who cries for entitlement.
The things you wish you’d never done,
The thing you wish you could erase.
I am the poisonous persuasion you give into,
The devil’s voice that believes it can do no wrong.
Shattering gold and liquor from my pockets rich,
Another selfish materialistic bitch.
I am the closeness to curl your toes,
This awful you can’t escape from, though your words fight.
I am almost wanted,
I am almost gone.
While you bruise and bloody and hurt me,
While you rage and shout and scorch me,
Something in me stays,
Something stops me parting ways.
I’ll be the monster, who hides beneath the bed,
I’ll be your conscience each time you see red,
I’ll be the demon with a piercing stare,
I’ll be the missing each time you don’t care.
I’ll be the booze to misguide your thought,
I’ll be to blame every time you get caught,
I’ll be the scorpion to sting Leo pride,
I’ll be the plague to your brain as it lied.
There’s something in body to body
And skin against skin.
Something leads to darkness,
Something leads to sin.
There’s something in boundaries
And not crossing lines,
Crossing needs more trust
Than reading blurred signs.
So I am the black and you are the blue,
And we are the hurt for our bodies to pull through.
I’ll run away and you run elsewhere,
And endlessly fight for the other to care.
I’ll be the girl and you be the boy,
To hell I’ll be taken for one smile of joy.