Your Name

You are the hours of my insomnia.

My eyes are your body.

Overtop of mine, with every flashback filling my soul.

My brain is filled with your memories.

The memories that make my stomach squeal, as my body shivers.

Coldchills fill my bodys framework, as I visualize with no choice.

I see your hands all over me, as my hands clench.

Every piece of me was broken, as you stood over me.

I stood alone in my room  naked.

In the mirror I saw skin, I saw bones, I saw me.

I saw a woman who had suffered, but triumphantly always won.

She learned from her hardships but now how could she.

Now, my skin is your name.

It is bruised, and broken, sore with your initials.

Some parts are dry, and others are cut.

In ways few can see, and in ways invisible.

You are the steps in my runway walk. 

My runway walk because there is no other walk now.

There is no just get out of bed walk, or waking to class walk.

There is only the runway walk.

The I have not left my room for weeks walk.

The I have not ate for possibly days.

The I have not physically moved for hours.

The I slept all week, and the only times I dared move,

was to cut my shallow body as blood ran down my legs to make me feel alive.

I had to reassure myself this life was still under the stars ad you scar me more.

The constellations telling me I am worthless, and the only brightness being the moon.

The moon I see everytime I look outside. As my pupils recognize darkness, and pain.

So when the brightness of the moon fills me, I fill the moon with every part of you.

Every part of you running over my body, for your pleasure.

Your pleasure kills my body, and I am slowly dying.

My unconscious states are no longer filled with your bad decisions.

Yet stilled full with you, screaming as nightmares reminisce those times.

My every being, thought, and whole is you.

You took it all, whether you wanted to or not.

EVEN if you yet still have to realize, you were wrong, you took me.

You are me, and I am you.

Never in a way I would have ever intended.

Though, you are me, and I am gone.

I am you because you will never forget me. You can hide, and sly with shame.

Your name is me, which means I am you.

Forget me, for you never will.

You never will because my power, and strength you stole.

Maybe that is why you are okay, and I am lost.

You stole, and took more than you knew.

While I still cry guilty for taking this from you.

NO, I am sorry. I am sorry you forgot what kindness was for those 7 hours.

I am sorry somebody somewhere told you this was okay. 

I am sorry you bruised my vagina, yes my vagina. I am sorry.

I am sorry that the pain for me was not just the "tightness of my vagina".

I am sorry that you are the words in the newspaper nobody reads.

I am sorry that I am not sorry for but one thing truly.

I am sorry that you are weak, that for all these things you could have chose the other road, the other path, but you are weak. 

Your name is shameful, and one I hear in pain.

Your name is pain to my family, to my body.

You are me and I am you.

I won't always be you.

For this day you will have to give up that power, and strength you stole. 

You will be weaker than the day you took those, and I will stand taller.

With your name a memory now just filling a part of my soul forever, I will be strong.