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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Other · #2001339
Trigger warning: rape
Honeysuckle and sickly
Sweet, his ripe lips engraved
Pulsed and reflected
The things I didn't want to
Admit, mirror of my soul
His face rough, twisted

Slam my eyes shut
Focused on the fireworks
Inside my lids
I writhed on the cool floor
Dipped in sweat, soft tufts
Of hair matted to my face

Granting me peace
Solace, erupting from my
Core, fiery hammer of pain
Milk from a cow, I peeled back
The layers of my consciousness
Hell-bent on enduring this

My spirit, left in his heart
In that barn, in Illinois
That dark, knobby man
Ruined me, left me hollow
Bit into me
And devoured me whole
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