Diary of June

I wake up and I’m suffocated by the love shoved down my throat.

Every inch of me feels no more than a piece of meat.

I am, in everyone’s eyes, insignificant in comparison to my owner,

But I am more than property to claim;

I am an artist, my brush strokes bringing the most forgotten corners of my soul into vision.

I once told you my worst fear is losing my right hand, for that's the only way I know how to speak; that I would be nothing without it, simply worthless.

You told me that you’d hold my left, that I’d always be something to you.

I wonder what I am to you now, having broken you twice.

Do you look at me differently?

Do you wonder what is so wrong with my inner workings that I cannot seem to commit to you? 

Do you wonder why I am so disgusted by you?

I do sometimes, but I know myself, better than you ever will.

I know I am more than property, more than a piece of meat.

I am a human, with a soul.

With thoughts and feelings to bring to fruition without being watered down.

I refuse to fit in the tiny box I caged myself in for so long because of you.

I am yours no longer.