I’m talking to someone
who really likes me. He makes me smile and laugh. Talking to him comes easy but
I’m not looking for anything at all. I’m really scared, the closer we get to
know each other is another step closer to me having to tell him about my past. It’s
not something I can avoid talking about because it affects everything. Down to
whether or not I can handle a hug that day. I’m really scared because I don’t
know what to do if I really start liking him. I’m scared of the future. Just
thinking about another man even touching me makes me sick to my stomach...........
To be poor is a hardship. But to be poor in the land of dollars is the bottom of hardships. And to be poor and black and female in America is about the bottom of all that. Because we are so irrelevant that's why we can be raped. What difference does it make? It's only a black woman.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Then I’m left with the emotional pain, the pain that tears away at my soul, my heart and my mind. The pain that invades me. My nameless, faceless sorry, that has found its home inside me. Pick up a sharp-edged cap that once was covering a glass beer bottle’s opening. The burns and bruises are doing nothing for me. They merely provide distraction, not for long, not long enough. I want to bleed.



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