ammietia

Re: The Dark Corners of Downtown: Prostitution Dear Editor, Thank you for your coverage of this story and shedding light on this unfortunate situation in the downtown core. Sadly, your article focuses on labelling those performing sex acts as prostitutes instead of looking deeper into whether they are being trafficked. The Initiative Against Sexual Trafficking defines sex trafficking as "the recruitment, transportation (within national or across international borders),transfer, harbouring, or receipt of persons for the purposes of commercial sexual exploitation.  Sexual trafficking is accomplished by means of fraud, deception, threat of or

The thirty-fourth leaves, I lay broken on the sheets, wondering when this will all stop, and if I should end it now. Money changes hands, I can't see through my tears. Torment, laughter, sweat, anticipation. Here's number thirty-five, who's just finished his fourth beer. I wonder what it feels like to die. I miss the taste of fresh air, and the sight of stars above. I wish I could start again, with a different life, change the cards. My petals have been crushed, my silver has been tarnished, Girl, slut, slave, whore. I've heard it all said before. Life has lost me, somewhere back there, when the day was greeted with a hello to the sun, and

Why did I have to taste paradise, so perfect a fruit, and to only take a bite or two but never hold it in my hand? Why did this longing take hold in my chest, rather kill it all than live anymore? Why do I dream of what cannot be, then be forced to wake up to harsh reality? Oh I'd vice anything to taste paradise again, hold it in my hand and never let go, But to do so I'd lose everything and make life worth living no more. So I leave my fingerprints on the glass that protects the ripe from the rotten, and cast downward my eyes, and take a deep breath, and sigh, "Have you ever longed so deeply for a place that was so wrong for you?"

Why do you hate me so? You try to kill me with overreactions to the simplest of things- Come on, the trees aren't out to get you, nor is watermelon. So just calm yourself down and maybe don't attempt to send me into anaphylactic shock whenever you come into contact with anything from The Outside World. You also have this issue with milk. And products with milk in them. And it's developed into random bursts of agony when I haven't even had milk in two days. Stop trying to kill the lactose and fats by sending me to my knees crying about how much it hurts. It's how I imagine being stabbed in the stomach feels. But I'm not about to test that th

 I remember as a child I would stare at the lines of light on my wall... There have always been openings in my curtains. For years I've had these vertical blinds that are a horrendous pink colour. And whenever I'd wake up in the middle of the night, or if I couldn't get to sleep, I'd watch the light shining through the cracks in the blinds. It was a busier street back then, I'm sure. The lines were always changing, moving, brightening, darkening. Passing cars would illuminate my room through those slits of light. I'd watch as each line slowly brightened, and then faded again. And if someone wasn't stopping for the stop sign, the transition

You'll always be the place of my paradise. And always the paradise I cannot touch.

 I remember when I would sleep at my riding instructor's house because I couldn't stand to be at home any longer, and I'd be snuggled under blankets and quilts, trying not to mess the bed up too much- as if it was a mortal sin to leave even a footprint in this house- and I'd wonder if I should just kill myself now. But no, I couldn't. Because I was finally safe, and I'd never put the one person who seemed to care through that- waking up to find a dead stray girl in the spare bedroom. Because that's how it would go, in my mind. I didn't know how I'd kill myself, but she'd find me in the bed, not breathing anymore. And I couldn't put the last p

Are you disappointed with me? Is that why you won't come home anymore? I look out the window, hoping to see your light. But you're not there, or else your light is gone. I worry if you're okay. I worry if you love me still. The counters are filling, filling completely, with your favourite dishes. I'm sorry- they each have tears in them. I'm opening these letters, these ones you gave me so long ago. And I wonder where we went wrong. Where did "see you later" end with you walking into the darkness, never looking back? Where did our fingers slip? Where did we all fall apart? I track back the steps we took here, and I mourn at the hourglass fi

I need you. I need you so badly. I need to feel paradise in your arms. I need to enter the world of dreams with my head on your chest. I need to see that anything is possible as I look into your eyes. I need to feel that I belong on your lips. I don't need just any world to live in- I need to live in your world. Your world has the only air I can breathe.