Rewriting The Stars

Bent over a sink fistful of my hair, bruise marring my face. "It was consensual," he said. "We had fun," he said. Fingers bruised my thigh, gripping me tight so I couldn't move. Tears falling into the sink as he violated me, took my virginity in the most vile way imaginable. The mirror showed a girl dying on the inside for the sole purpose of some guy getting off- damn the consequences. Didn't tell anyone. Who would believe a loner over the southern gentleman? (he wasn't so gentle) But it happened. And finally I'm able to speak up and speak out against the sexual assaults that plague the media and society as people condemn the victim. "It was her fault." "She should have said something." Nobody believes a victim- the accusation is swept under a rug. But that can't happen if the assailant is in public eye. Everyone can hear it- It can't be swept under the rug anymore. -Don'

Red nails Tap Tap Tapping on the counter- impatient waiting for a peace of mind. Red lips stain the cigarette I am Puff Puff Puffing for a sense  of normalcy. Red blood Drip Drip Dripping down my arm- staining the bathroom tiles, marking where I lost my control- where I lost my mind. Red sky sun setting. Another day lost- another mind broken.

Smell of smoke mixed with lavender- Tears marked her face, but a smile graced her lips. Messy hair and a formal dress to class. Nothing ever made sense about this girl, but that's what people loved about her. The unpredictability- the chaos. Until she revealed how unstable her mind was, then they all ran.                    -mind and appearance matched...   how shocking...

I sit on the roof of this apartment - where I am not allowed, losing myself in the ethereal stars. The smoke from the cigarette dangling from my lips, making shapes as it rises towards the heavens. How I wish you were here with me to form poetry from the stars and stories in the smoke. The perfect scene- how picturesque. However, quite lonely when I sit here reminded of how you would enjoy this aesthetic perch, snapping memories with your camera and scribbling in your notebook as much as I. Your poetic thoughts - my inspiration as they always have been. We must visit soon.