On Being A Living Ghost | Teen Ink

On Being A Living Ghost

May 22, 2015
By natmperkins BRONZE, Solana Beach, California
natmperkins BRONZE, Solana Beach, California
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

I eat melancholy for breakfast lunch and dinner
For junkie eyes and junkie lies
Dope fiend drama queen anywhere but here kind of girl

You told me so many times to stop complaining 
That I started to make
My problems dance instead
I became them
Got on my knees and
Prayed to them
Let them choke me
Pull my hair
Punch me in the face until my teeth fell out 
One by one

When I was 16 I remembered
That this wasn't normal
It's as though I was blind
But you ripped off my retinas
Replaced them with new ones
Because I shut down every time he touched me 
And I didn't know why

Your handprints still cover my body
They look like burn marks
And every night instead of counting sheep
I count the number of days
Until every skin cell you have ever touched
Will be replaced
And if I can last through it
Without suffocating it will be a f***ing miracle

I want to rewind time
Discard and
Abort myself
I want to know what you did to me
Because every time
I lay with him the wrong way
I start screaming

I want to stop yelling in the ears of
People who have never hurt me
But his hands are cold
Colder than yours
And I'm sizzling 
Because I'm a little confused 
Why you touched me
Why you made me touch you

You gave me excuses to jump into beds and to jump off cliffs 
But never an excuse to love myself
You're made, stainless steal
And I am shattered glass
You were like fire 
And I was your coals, but I didn't want to be

Classic case of daddy issues
The kind of girl who
Can't handle commitment 
Except she can 
She just doesn't want to

You were so tall 
Why were you so tall?
I hated feeling weak
I thought that's what love was 
Giving everyone 
Every piece of your soul
Until you were sanded to nothing
Not saying no
They won't hurt you
They LOVE you

I told you a story 
Of the girl who was too sad speak
She tried to scratch off
Her own face
Fingernails tweezers razorblades

Because his hands made her mix
Past with present
Her personality is a PTSD Symptoms list and
She’s tired of being so goddamn 
Predictable

When I was 12 I had a boyfriend 
Who wouldn't hold my hand
Only grab me from behind 
Touch me in places I didn't want 
Do secret things to me in the dark
Because how was I supposed to know it wasn't normal

Only you weren't
My boyfriend
You were
My father 
And how could you do that I was your daughter?



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