This could be a trigger subject. Definitely more adult themed. Aftermath isn’t always a pleasant thing.. actually by definition everything about it isn’t pleasant. It is something that leaves you different, and you usually having to pick yourself back up. So basically this is my warning about the following poem and to fill the pop up box in Facebook so people can pass over it or choose to read it.

After sex,
I dream of death
My own
Shattering from the inside out
Leaving me rubble
Plundered, and stomped
With an exit hug
And I wilt, recoiling
Into myself
A spiral staircase
Spinning around and around
Deep inside
And depression greets me at the bottom
As my body burns down around me
I sit there trying to communicate an escape
But depression grips my hands
And tells me to lie down
For this is what pleasure is all about
And his shadow stands in the doorway
I remember every moment
As the one I crumbled alive
Splintering, the bones of my body
Crack, shatter
And I am nothing more than an afterthought

After sex,
I cry
For I lost something inside myself
And I will never be able to quite explain
Describe the thieves that found me years ago
And I am only a tomb
Every burst, glow stolen
They left only a map
I trace with my tears, and I try to guide
Bring in new tourists
To this outdated amusement park
And my words
Clink, screech, halt
As we watch all the rides fall apart

After sex,
I reject
Myself, a stranger
That I have an awkward conversation
Leaving me so dry
My sexual fantasies snub me
Like one last cigarette
One last touch
One more scar
Breaking me into a puzzle
And all the pieces are missing
So I try to shove myself into a box
Hide myself under the bed
Until the next party
The next pair of hands
To lose a few more pieces
Of me

After sex,
I dream of death
For it kills a part of me
Every time


4 thoughts on “Stranger

  1. This is heartbreaking, raw and provokes so many emotions. I believe you are incredibly brave and I want you to know that through your words there is something incredibly beautiful – I think it is the human at the heart of them, or at least the human trying to live. There is strength.

      • I cannot imagine the strength it took and how much you had to ‘step out of a shadow’ almost to write it and that’s what makes it beautiful although awful you feel this way and have had part of you taken away. It isn’t the words or poetic devices, it is the bravery which makes it beautiful and the possibility that others may read it and know they are not alone; in a word, it’s inspiring.

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