October.

A tumbler of smoked whiskey
Droplets bleeding down the glass
and clinking ice shatters the silence
dissecting the tension of absolution.

A smouldering cigarette hisses slowly to the butt
blue figures dancing against the backdrop of insanity
choking the silhouettes of darkness
and suffocating the seamless madness.

Justifying decisions with a sense of expectation
Allowing the tears to fall into the memories
Gurning while a shadow breathes against my neck
and strings of saliva drip against my skin.

Veins bubble in rage
Fear paralyses the soul
A twisting neck and screaming eyes
bruises that never quite fade.

Desperation seeks to destroy,
Devastation kills the joy
and yet, in a daylight doused in dreams.
Ice cubes bob and shatter the silence.

It's been almost a year.
Two short weeks and it'll have been a year. I feel no less broken, no less able to deal with the shit and yet.. "I've moved on."
I still find myself freaking out. I still cross the street when I feel threatened, I still wake up racked with nightmares and a fear which never seems to ease.

It's been almost a year and I still feel like the broken little girl I was turned into.