Brown Eyes

His brown eyes
blurred into the
beauty of the stars
in the sky.

"I love you," he said
to me.

This was long ago. I
doubt he remembers the
time he held me for hours
and we whispered secrets.

I doubt he'd remember the
thorn he stuck into my
heart when he told me
it wasn't true.

"You're such a little whore,"
he said to me just yesterday.

I think he meant it as a
compliment.

Now, the word is carved into
my heart and my legs.

Only one of those scars is
ever going to heal. It does
not matter what anyone else
tells me, I am still the
whore. I still do

whatever

he wants, just so he'll want
me. Even though, believe me,
I know, he's only going to
hurt me. His only pleasure
is when I bleed.

And, upon hearing your voice,
I recall both times. I wish
you would tell me you loved
me. I know it isn't true.

I mean, no matter what you
say or how many times you
call me a whore I will still
come running after you.

I will always miss you.

I will always miss his brown
eyes, blurred into the
beauty of the stars
in the night sky.