Broken

i am cracked
and broken
no need to
handle me
with care

if you want
something
pretty
or perfect
go look
elsewhere

cracked and broken

— Years ago, I wrote a short story that contained the lines: “The silence drags on. It’s exquisite torture. I want you to slam me against the wall of the shower, and fuck me until I can’t stop screaming. And I want you to take my face in both hands and give me the sweetest, most delicate kiss on my lips. I want both these things and I can’t work out why. I can’t be an incurable romantic and a fucked-up little slut at the same time, can I? Or is that what you’ll teach me today?”

Believe it or not, I wrote that for an erotic literature contest for some online website. Again it was years ago, so I have no idea if it the site still exists but … I won. First place. The story was about a confused girl. Who felt good when she was being treated not so good by someone who loved her. At times, that has been the story of my life. I don’t expect anyone reading this to understand. I don’t even understand it on most days and I’ve lived it.

I was talking to a friend last night about being broken (aren’t we all just a little?) and about having issues we deal with. And I said to him: “All ‘life’ really is … is one breath then the next and finding what alleviates your issues in between.”

Peace, y’all.

©words by amélie, photo – unknown

1 thought on “Broken”

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