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Bella Donna
Words come to me slowly.
They come in fragments;
Ideas,
Never whole.
I have dreams;
But no future.
I have thoughts;
But no visions.
My mind is empty of determination.
When I think,
I get anxious.
My chest is tight
It's hard to breath.
The room spins.
Those hateful thoughts come back and,
I get angry.
I blame people.
I hate myself,
and I search for purpose.
She became my purpose.
To make her love me,
Admire me,
Adore me.
Her skin was a canvas for my lips.
Her laugh were the symphonies I wrote.
I thought it was love.
I thought our moments,
With Bowie and Banksy
Spiriling from our fingers,
Were magic.
I thought when she took me by the mouth,
That I was hers and she was mine.
But she lied;
She enchanted me.
Her gentle noises were deception.
Her romantic force was destruction.
She was talented in blinding me.
She tortured me,
and I was tortured.
She told me it was how poetic I was.
That I was cursed with a gift of pain.
She tore me from my life,
My dreams, my thoughts,
She filled me with herself;
And I was hers.
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I wrote this as i was getting out of an abusive relationship with a girl i was very, very, very close to.