'USED' - A poem

As not many of you know...

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‘Used’

I don’t feel a thing

Why am I not affected by something that has shaped me?

Something that’s scarred me?

I can’t love someone without doubt in my heart

What am I good for?

Self sabotage

People are weak when I’m in the way

I’m not worth what they give

Despite what they say

I’m just a lump of experimental clay

Played with

Forgotten

And just…tossed away

By that time I was a sick, pale grey

Stone cold, rock hard skin

Fragile to the touch

Entirely obsolete

And with the years that passed

My memory faded

So now I can’t remember much

But it’s there

Somewhere dark and solitary

Making me itch

And beg for release

Does anybody want me around?

Would anyone miss me if I were gone?

Or would my absence go unnoticed

Just like my presence

If so

Perhaps I wouldn’t mind

I would take invisibility if it meant I could be by someone’s side each and every night

There is more love in my heart for others than hatred reserved for myself

What I didn’t deserve

Has left me disturbed

The dusty old doll on the shelf

Placed out of reach like a trophy

But not treated like any form of prize

The more that I pray to be polished

The more I feel I’m despised

Thinking back it was strange

I felt everything and nothing at once

I could feel his tongue tracing my skin

I could feel his fingers inside of me

and yet I was devoid of any pleasure

He was whispering in my ear

Begging me to touch him in a way that seemed far too valuable for me to take responsibility for

But valuable to who?

He didn’t seem to share that concern so why did I?

It didn’t feel right and, by right, I mean it didn’t feel the way I have been brought up to believe

There was no fire

No burning lust

In fact

Every fibre of my being just felt…cold.

Empty. Trapped. Dirty.

I found myself scratching at my skin

Filled with regret

Wanting to be clean

Needing to forget

I stood in the shower completely entranced

Thinking back on it now I still don’t understand how my knees didn’t buckle out from under me

There were tears falling down my cheeks but no sobs escaped my lips

I could still taste his saliva mixed with mine

It was cancer of the mouth

Poison

I spat into the sink until my tongue was dry

But it was not enough

I wanted to reach inside myself and tear out the flesh that he’d claimed

Does it matter who or what or when?

The point is it happened and now I’m infected with a terminal virus

I can fight the effects but still it’s left it’s mark

A permanent scar on my barely beating heart

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