You broke me so you
wouldn't have to suffocate.
You tore me apart so you
could remain in one piece.
You stole my compassion so
you could be kind.

You were nothing short of a monster,
nothing short of a being
who fed off of sorrow my
and depression.

You fed such incorrigible
desires with your actions,
and I didn't see it.

   I was far too engraved
  in the very transgressions of my
illusions; the offense
of your brilliantly covert mind.

So manipulative you were,
yet I was so willing to listen to
your words, to anything
around me that involved you,
but you were a
monster.

   Nothing less.

   Nothing more

You dug your claws into my flesh;
you pierced your teeth into the warm fabric,
lapping away at the life force I had.

You did what monsters did.
You broke me.
You stole what you could from me.
You made me weak.
You made me small.
You kept me around for your own
persuasions and manipulations.

I was your means to an end,
just as any monster's victim is.

You chose me.
   I let you in.
I kept you closest to me, revealing
that of my darkest secrets and
fears,
but you used that against me.

Such intimate details were wasted
on a monster, and they only fed
Into your rough agenda.

Fear, pain, and anguish
that's what you
craved, and that's what you
received from me.

A monster you are.
A monster you will always be.

Nothing less.

Nothing more.

it's a good thing i don't share my writing with you
because if i did,
you'd see that
you
are the boy with the ocean eyes and
i
am not really okay.

my mother always told me i was too giving
but she doesn’t realize she made me that way
she gave everything away
even my name

my mom wanted to name me eviana
my dad wanted to name me zara
but my sister wanted a sister named olivia
so my mom gave that to her

she always told me it was okay to give
but to a certain extent
she told me
it’s okay to be a giver
you don’t need to receive every time
but sometimes
you should

i was 15 when i gave a boy almost every part of me
and even when he left
he hardly gave one piece back

i was 6 when i wrapped my brothers birthday gift
he was turning ten
i used two rolls of tape
when he opened it he laughed
you can’t give me a gift that i gave you
and so i replied with
why not?

i was 12 when i came home with a report card
with two C’s on it
i thought i did good
so i gave it to my father
and he didn’t even glance at me
he exhaled
and asked me why i couldn't be like my sister

every time i go out with friends and the check comes
i’m the first to grab it
it’s just a meal or a drink
it’s not a big deal
until one day we’re at dinner
and i'm two dollars short
"can someone spot me on this one?"
and everyone stays silent
that’s when its a big deal

i spent the majority of my life giving
and hardly receiving

but that’s not what my mother taught me
it took me years to realize that my mother taught me to be a giver
but not everyone has my mom to teach them that, too

you've left me in sickness
and you've left me in health
you've left me in droughts
and you've left me in rain
you've left me while dying
and you've left me crying

You've left me again and again
and I've stuck by you in times
that you left and those when your
need was a hand to hold and cry
or when you wanted to rip that same skin
in your anxiety & pain

I saw what he did to you
I saw the blackmail
I saw the false pain he painted
I heard his fake screams
and your real ones
and so I wondered

I wondered why
you painted the same pain
with blood and heartbreak
and called me a monster all night
while asking me to help you
these were the same words he used

This was the same pain he gave you
in different ways
with different doses
for different incentives
yet still
the same pain

You'd come back
and I'd believe you to stay
I believed that you would stay
at least for the time you had promised
and its not my fault
if you had promised forever

You'd leave again
like everytime
but I knew you'd come back
like everytime
but this time you say is different
like everytime
and I'm left knowing nothing
like everytime

I had believed my first kiss (you)
would also always be my last
I fought for it to be
maybe I still might
but then how are you so comfortable
kissing lips that aren't mine

You hated your name
perhaps because he told you
that it meant "mine" (his)
But I made you love it
because I showed you its real meaning
The gift from God

Hence I wonder
what makes you hurt me
the way he hurt you
what makes you leave
around every corner
when what is needed is a fight

I am no saint no savior no medic
but I stuck through your nightmares
and I bared the pain you caused
only to sit you down
and stop you from killing
what I had in me for you

But you are My Killer
finding reasons to leave me
ways to hurt me
procedures to rip open
my chest and cut through my heart
that beat with your two syllable name

I still wonder why
and the one reason you offer
is just not strong enough
or good enough
to leave someone in the ways
you left me

I'm no saint
but I've never left you in pain
the way you've always left me

Poetry isn’t only pain
Poetry is a cup
you can fill it
with whatever you like