The way I have dealt with my traumas
Has varied.
They have moved as swiftly
As the seasons change,
And have always adapted to the current climate in which I live.
For a short while, I could pretend as though
Nothing happened.
I could pretend as though my pain was as
Invisible as their ability to love me,
And that I was as unaffected as
An old oak that has weathered storms past.
Then came my acceptance, and my fight.
I fought.
Hard.
To be seen, and heard, and believed.
But alas, this was not to be.
It was then I learned, that sometimes silence is what is needed
To weather a great storm.
Then came the talking.
With endless cups of coffee,
And whistles that glowed in the dark,
I learned what it truly meant to share my pain
With one that would not tell my secrets.
Who could not tell of the demons dancing throughout my head.
To truly learn that trust can
Also weather a great storm.
Finally, has come nothingness.
I try, desperately to forget the remaining threads that
Tether me to my memories,
Even when I still can’t sleep with my back away from a wall.
It is not a time I wouldn’t be keen to forget.
There is no storm worth remembering to weather.
There is no storm worth remembering.
Apr 24, 2022
Apr 24, 2022 at 5:54 PM UTC
Sometimes,
When the sun gets low,
And the stars and moon don’t seem to be hanging in the sky,
Taunting me with their ability to disappear into oblivion,
It can feel almost impossible to breathe.
While I know that being unable to breathe
Because there is nothing in the darkness to light my way
Is as about impossible as it is possible for me to love you again,
It is still my reality.
I know that my heart will never be open to the possibility of
surrendering itself so completely to you once more,
Just as well as I know that this weight on my chest isn’t real,
But it doesn’t make the feeling evaporate like water on a blisteringly hot day,
Or even on a slightly too warm for a jumper day.
The harshness of my condition has been taught to me
Like a bunny has been taught to hide
When the foxes stalk it’s way.
Even more so, the cures have been preached to me since
The moment I admitted I led a tormented existence,
And yet my existence has remained tormented.
Maybe this is my moment, my completely, impossible to ignore,
Unavoidable,
Moment.
To quiet those which torment me.
Which taunt me.
Which remind me,
I will never truly escape these chains
That hold me on the starless nights.
Sep 15, 2021
Sep 15, 2021 at 6:47 PM UTC
My depression is like
Laying in a bed of thorns.
Every move will punish me,
Scratches matching every fear and compulsion.
I wonder what it would be like
To not have this burden hanging,
Like an executioners axe just
Waiting to be swung.
I wonder what it would be like
To not be watching over my shoulder,
With anxiety clawing at my every movement.
I wonder what it would be like
To be in a room full of people
And to know that I am loved.
To not need them to express it,
Because I had nothing to make me doubt.
I wonder what it would be like
To feel anything at all,
Except this ache,
This numbness that seems to cushion
My fall.
Dec 21, 2020
Dec 21, 2020 at 7:19 PM UTC
I think I should be a plant mum.
Plants require love,
but not too much love.
Plants require the amount of love
that I am capable of giving.
So, while my heart is healing,
maybe I should become a plant mum.
Maybe that amount of love will suffice.
Jan 15, 2020
Jan 15, 2020 at 9:06 AM UTC
Silently, but sweetly,
you walked through the streets of my heart,
streets that were cold and abandoned.
It was somewhere no one wanted to make their home.
People came to visit for a while,
but nothing was ever permanent.
That is until you came.
You took those barren streets
and planted flowers in the graves.
You cooked in all the kitchens,
boiling foods that never should have been boiled
but all the while still making it feel like home.
You reminded me that I was whole,
and that I did not need someone to make my streets
their home.
I did not expect you,
and I certainly did not prepare for you.
However, you reminded me that there could be a piece of joy
in the unavoidable sadness.
You showed me that I could be loved,
cold streets and all.
You showed me that I am loved.
I am loved, and I can love in return.
Thank you.
Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 7:44 PM UTC
My resting ***** face is my superpower,
That and my ability to survive.
But you can’t have one without the other,
My survival and my superpower walk hand in hand through the valley that is
“Sweetheart” men,
Kissy face men,
Will shout at you in the street men
And will say you were asking for it men.
You thought I wanted it?
Look at this ***** face,
And tell me I wanted it, *****
I have learnt that the world will throw knives and snarls in my direction,
And a simple smile will not end this affection,
And so a resting ***** face ends that sort of ********
Because suddenly, when you look like a woman who won’t take ****
Men won’t give you ****
When life gives you lemons,
Make a **** orange.
You won’t be given anything.
One day, I’m gonna tell my baby girl
“Remember, a resting ***** face is your superpower,
And you can do anything you put your mind to.”
I have survived everything that has come my way so far,
Me and my resting ***** face will rule this world.
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 6:54 PM UTC
I have known many men.
I have known kind men.
I have known sweet men.
I have known men
that scream 'not all men'.
I have known men
that are those men.
I cannot claim to have known all men,
but those that I know vary greatly.
I know good men.
I know gentle men.
But I have also known violent men,
Angry men,
men that make me want to rip my hair out
and men that did it to me.
So, while I know there is good,
I know all too well that there is bad.
I cannot change all men,
but I am sure that I will find a person
that does not need to change.
Until then,
I shall not be hurt by more men.
Jun 28, 2019
Jun 28, 2019 at 4:46 PM UTC
Do not be gentle with my mind.
I know that to move on
I must deal with my past.
My childhood.
The disorders.
The ****
The trauma.
I know that to truly love
I have to move on.
Maybe I am not ready to love yet.
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 12:08 PM UTC
They say at the moment before your death,
You will have a piece of life flash before your eyes.
I wonder if it will catch my baby’s breath,
Or my very first butterflies.
I hope I will see all that is good,
Not my first love, but my last.
I hope I do not see the horrors of my childhood,
Or if I do, I hope it goes fast.
When my time comes, I hope it is filled
With all the I love
And all that I have fulfilled,
Warming my heart like a woollen glove.
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 12:31 PM UTC
what have they done to you,
dear girl with the rainbow hair?
have they saddled you with their insatiable thirst for perfection,
my sweet girl with the rainbow hair?
have they demonized the ground you dare stand,
fearless girl with the rainbow hair?
have the non-believers tore you piece from piece,
my messed up girl with the rainbow hair?
the world will always tear you down,
tender girl with the rainbow hair.
you were never supposed to use your voice,
my deafening girl with the rainbow hair.
do not let them defeat you,
sweet heartbroken girl with the rainbow hair.
whilst machismo is still alive,
the girls will never be safe.
May 4, 2019
May 4, 2019 at 7:16 AM UTC