i stopped writing because i didn't need to when you were my paper and my lips were the pen

he kissed her so passionately, her moans escaped onto his lips. as soon as he stopped, she pulled him back to him and kissed him as if he was the oxygen she needed to breathe.
she only ever felt alive when she was touching him.

sometimes I feel like my only childhood memory was hiding in my sibling's room while you fought, while you were so drunk the only thing the bottle told you was to use anger to hide the self loathing you carried. how the screaming rattled the walls, and the smell of beer filled every room in the house. how I was so young, I didn't know what was going on. how could I have known what was going on?
but in the end- thanks for choosing your addiction over me.

verbal abuse was the one thing that came out of your addiction that tore me apart. words and phrases that crawled up my spine, words that made getting punched in the face seem less painful. you may have forgotten every bad thing you've said to me, but I haven't. I always tried to forgive you, but how could I forgive you if you just kept throwing those words at me? you just needed your high to feel sane. I'm going to take every word you've ever said to me to the grave,'cause you're not worthy of my forgiveness. but in the end, thanks for choosing your addiction over me.

"what does it feel like, being so numb that caring doesn't even cross your mind?"
"have you ever put ice and salt to your skin just to feel and see the reaction?"
"yes."
"it feels like that. pain, but a pain that's inviting. a pain that makes you curious, so you keep the ice there just a little bit longer."

i  hate every inch of me, every centimeter, every millimeter.
i can't hurt myself, so let me find my relief in you.

i always found it easiest to scream my feelings out on paper, but now i find it easier just to have me scream them when you're on top of me.