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When I wake up in the middle of the night,
I want you to touch me.
When I scream in my head,
I want you to hear me.
When I cry myself to sleep,
I want you to hold me.
But when I wake up in the middle of the night,
I am alone;
And when I scream in my head,
Only I can hear;
And when I cry myself to sleep,
There is no one but me.
No Comfort.
No Shelter.
The emptiness is unbearable.
The cold is deplorable.
I am detestable;
I am unreachable.
The task unachievable;
unavailable, unthinkable;
I go back to sleep;
I close my eyes;
I dream;
And I wait for you to save me.

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I am somewhere different and new yet in a place that I know. I stand with several new people that I recognize and know without ever having met them. We are all girls, and we have a purpose, though the purpose is unknown or not important. We are in what I assume is a house; however, why we would be there makes little sense. We are somewhere between one part and another of this house with a door to the outside just before us.
One of us sits to my right at a desk in a chair. She has shorter yet fluffy dark hair. She has glasses or not. There is blue.
There is a group of men standing in front of us. We know who they are and expected them, but somehow, I know not their names. There is one in the middle who is their leader. He is blonde, which is different than the rest with dark colored and no hair. The blonde falls over his ears but is still in place. Perfectly imperfect. I know what he wants. I knew this before.
They stand in a clump staring at us. We stand in a line staring at them. There are three on three staring at one another. We are a confrontation.
The man does not have to take a step forward to tell us his decision. He chooses the girl in the chair and her blue. He takes a hold of her. Her arm or her chair. He takes her like he is going to take her right there while we watch. This is what he needs in order to be appeased. This is better than what would befall us otherwise. But I know that I should stop him; I should do this for them. This is what I do for them.
He stops disappointed. She is not good enough for him. She is not doing something right. Not moving how she should. She still sits in her chair unwilling to move and that disappoints him. We have disappointed him. He moves back to his spot and looks back at us. He is considering. I can already tell that he will choose me even though it terrifies me, even though he should. I cannot let someone else go through this.
He points at me and takes a step forward. I will do this for them.
I ask him if there is anything else we can do instead. He touches my arm, and we begin to walk down the hall. No, no, he says. This must happen. I will do this for them.
He takes me to a bedroom. He plays with my shirt like he is playing with his food. He says something, but I have stopped listening. His fingers brush over me. He likes to touch me. This is what I will do for them.
We both are wearing blue jeans. He is so hungry that he does not take the time to remove what is in his way. I let him move how he wants, for what can I do when he so easily overpowers me? I am doing this for them.
When he finishes, he fondles the blue jeans. Is there nothing else we can do? I beg of him. Please, please, anything else? No, no, he says, almost laughing. Have we bonded? Perhaps we can come to an impasse. He laughs more as he peeks down into his newly found hidden treasure. I beg to him again. Is there not anything else that we can do? I beg to him; I am terrified. What he wants to do frightens me beyond anything I can remember. I am doing this for them. I am doing this for them.
And then there is a distraction. A beautiful, wonderful distraction. And we are done. Narrowly. We are done. A beautiful escape that only happens in dreams when your mind can take no more of its own concoctions.
In the dark of day,
And in the bright of night,
I whisper to an empty air.

I watch the shadows fall around me,
Engulf me,
Sing to me.

Calling to an unholy ghost,
To anything,
To save me.

I close my eyes to the dark,
And the lights become gray
As my reality unravels.

Dreams of times forgotten
And times remembered
And times unwanted. 

Dreams of beauty
And dreams of love
And dreams of terror.

I wander with no aim
Into the tumbling wall,
The crashing of my desolate hand.

Then after storms that fill the night,
Bending and binding and breaking me,
I am filled with the light of nothing.

And there is no hero,
No knight,
No savior.

I welcome the beasts and men,
to take me away from the darkness of light.
Love from afar.

But that is the problem, isn't it?
What's the problem?

It's just that I believed you.
I always believe you.

I shouldn't.

It's not your fault.

You say
Just three more
Just two more
Just one more.
But it never works.

I believed you.

That's why it hurts.
When you said that you would save me,
I believed you.
When you said that you would find a way,
I believed you.
But I am not saved.

I am alone.

Love from afar.
That's what it always will be.

Maybe I should stop believing you.
i am tired
i am sad
i am angry
i am unable
i do not like this place
i do not like that
i do not like how you talk to me
nor do i like how you talk to them
i wish not to be treated in such ways
i feel out of place
i feel unhappy
i feel miscast
i cannot breathe
i cannot think
i cannot go back
i cannot go forward
i cry
i weep
i am a downpour
i am a hurricane
i am a tornado
i am a pause
erase me grey
sparkle me pink
wash me teal
color me red
shadow me black
i do not need oil
i do not need meditation
i do not need constant reminder
i miss before
i miss before that
and even before that
i curl
i fall
i wait
i hold my breath
i hold the sleeves
i hold the slipping grip
i touch the cold
i touch the air
i am with you
i am with them
i am alone
i smile
i frown
i reconsider
i know not what to do
i know not how to think
i know not the future
nor how to proceed
but i can never tell you
you can never understand
i can never understand
and you cannot help
and i am sorry
i am sorry to you
i am sorry to both of you
but i can never tell you

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