I don't write. I create.
I blocked the bitch.
I blocked the bitch.
I stopped the bitch.
I locked off the bitch.
I dropped the bitch.
Cut off the bitch.
Read the bitch and shocked the bitch.
Keep your one sided activities, ignorant mindset and lack of complete narrative. I don’t need any of it.
The understanding that you are who you are: means that I’ll always grow being true to myself.
Interesting addition to the clothes I wear.
I add many things to this small, zipped, denim location.
Tissue, paracetamol, lip-balm, eye-drops, hand cream, lemon sherbet drops and a three page letter.
I wrote about 2020.
I transferred pain from my heart, to these pages, to my pocket.
I released everything. Yet, I keep memories folded and close by.
Maybe, they’ll wash away the deeper I stride into this scenic lake.
I’m blessed.
The only thing that matters is my birth.
Enter into a conversation about drugs? I know you drink whisky alone.
Can we focus on your need for the consumption of illegal grams of.
I do not approve!
May we focus on the cause of your erratic behaviours?
Of course I stepped aside. You are not my responsibility.
I did nothing.
I’ve done nothing.
I’ll do nothing.
Karma has you, hung, strung and burnt alive with ice.
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I’ve been tormented by your silence.
Incapacitated by your love.
Lost time over how you’ve treated me.
Scars on my arms and etched into my mind.
I never asked for this. I only wanted to love and be loved.
When you don’t like an action I’ve taken, you impose an order of silence.
I wait anxiously to discover the consequence.
I lay beside you, awake.
You hold me tightly and whisper.
Inside I’m broken.
Inside I’m broken.
Inside I’m broken.
I wake up and you’ve made breakfast.
You’re happy! You kiss me.
I’m confused.
Did you not?
Did we not?
Did I not?
Your body embraces mine on a sunlit balcony.
I want to feel bliss. But fear races through me.
Why am I afraid of you?
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No arguments.
No additional information.
No reminders.
No pleas!
No statements.
No subliminal memes on my status updates.
No cryptic tweets.
No hashtag.
No handwritten letters.
No obvious notion.
No phone call.
No smokescreen.
No emails.
No screenshots.
No reminiscing.
No dreams about cutting you up into tiny pieces, seasoning you with a pinch of salt and a cup of pepper and feeding you to a murder of CROWS.
*I simply blocked and deleted your connections to me.
He told me I was more than enough.
He stomped on my heart.
He cut through and now I’m permanently scarred.
Now I think about it daily and its old news.
He told me that I’m not enough.
It cut so deep I bleed out.
I fell apart.
From my core…I didn’t know before.
Feelings could be so powerful.
Devil in the form of a bull.
You said this, ‘Unique, I want you in my life forever! I know no one like you.’
He trampled across my wrists, his hooves fragmenting my bones.
He squeezed my throat; I lost my voice. He once told me my voice was beautiful.
He lied to my eyes – most of the texts he composed were made up happenings.
Surprised when he caught me off guard.
I’m now covered in scars and I can’t hide them.
He told me I’m more than enough before he crushed my ankles with the weight of his disrespect.
He fooled me twice and it’s all my fault.
I let a wild bull storm into my life and intoxicate me.
I was more than enough.
He was my homie I thought.
He was my love I thought.
He was my everything I thought.
His horns pierced into my eyes, gauging out the only good vision I had left of him.
Devil in the form of a bull.
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So I understand from the female voice that you flirted with a girl from Sainsbury’s and it must have been some charming words used, as your girlfriend goes on to state, ‘you don’t tell me I’m beautiful.’
Right there, was a sign of her insecurities but you never provided her with any comfort. You replied, ‘you fucking stupid bitch! I’ll fucking go to my mums, you fucking whore! You’re the one sleeping with all the men you see, fucking tramp.’
I heard you slam the same door repeatedly, then you growled. I assume she remained in one spot, as her sound never seemed to move. However, yours went through your living space. She screamed, ‘I don’t care anymore.’ You responded by shouting over her, ‘the thing is yeah, you’re a fucking stupid bitch and I can do better than you. I only told the girl she looked good; everyone needs compliments during lockdown. I don’t need a dumb bitch like you in my life. Shut the fuck up!’
Her cries continue and after a few more fights with multiple inanimate objects, you slam the front door. I heard the lock turn…
A few moments pass and her crying turns into sobbing on the phone to her friend. I form the assumption that this particular friend has heard it all before, as your girlfriend shouts, ‘What would you know? You’re not understanding what I’m saying, this is a different situation, it happened today!’
It’s around 0100 I know you’ve returned as she’s moaning, no, not the crying she was doing earlier. She’s moaning in sexual delight, you’re silent! Apart from the odd pleasurable grumble…
It’s a new day, I think this is the first day you both made it past 12 hrs before fighting, again. A glass is broken, let’s assume it was glass from dinner? I hear you shouting (yet again,) ‘Who the fuck is gonna want a skanky, dirty, fucking hoe like you?’
The day after that, I hear the police arrive, only they knock the wrong door – I hope you heard them state, ‘we are here following a report of domestic violence.’
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I saw a bear in a cottage rummaging through a jar of biscuits.
I watched on through the kitchen window, admiring the glass jar and how it holds the biscuits within its body.
The bear smelt my sweet aroma, for I had honey all over my face. I had only gone outside to put the bins out, I’m sure I was gone for only a minute. My phone had buzzed and I checked a comment made on www.dameunique.blog heard a noise and turned to head back to the kitchen. However, as I came closer to my kitchen window and saw the most serial image. A bear eating biscuits from a glass biscuit jar. They were delicious raspberry and white chocolate cookies.
For 13 minutes, I stared through the window of my own kitchen, at this beautiful animal. Delicately stealing cookies from my jar of biscuits, only the cookies! The bear left the other biscuits; custard creams, bourbon creams, jam rings, rich tea, chocolate digestives and surely biscoff.
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