Being perceived as normal is an art.
  My PTSD Atypical brain
is accidentally obvious,
and so I must be practiced and calculated
to stay hidden.

It isn't the cute eccentricities
that give us all mildly embarrassing quirks
that keep me up at night
obsessing over my behavior.
It's the trickle of trauma that seeps out of me
and marinates in with conversations
that should be normal.

It isn't random shoulder shaking sobs
or public screaming matches,
or anything obvious enough
to merit the stares of passerbys.
It's more
a bump in the road,
a single tight knot
in a strand of yarn,
or a piece of eggshell in pancake batter.
Not terrible enough to upset the balance completely,
but your thumb runs over it repeatedly a few times
in annoyance
because you can feel it just enough
to know it shouldn't be there.

It shouldn't be there.

I'm trying to practice
being average.
Practice being quiet when I should,
and learn the pieces of my life
that were traumatic
so I can hide them enough
to get by in a daily vanilla life.

But it's exhausting.

“Can I just sleep here?”
He exhaled, exhausted.
The past month
He’d been carrying my worries along side me,
Regardless of his own.
He bought me drink
After drink,
Made me food,
Of course he could sleep here,
He was my friend.

We can control ourselves.

A hug goodnight
To my housemate
And I got changed in the bathroom,
Stumbling down the hall.
He was already in my bed,
All wrapped up in my red blanket.
His shirt and pants were on the floor
In a heap.
“Are you just in your boxers?”
I asked, uncomfortable.
“It’s the only way I can sleep.”

I got under my quilt,
Careful to keep my body from his,
Pressing myself against my wall.
He put one arm around me,
And one under my pillow
Like a halo above my head,
In exactly the way he did
When we were together.
He pulled my red blanket over me, and I felt his warm skin.

I pulled away from him,
I could feel his *******.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,”
He buried his face in my neck,
And he let out a contented sigh.

How did I get here?

I kept picturing him with his ex wife,
He kept telling me they’re working things out,
And it’s going well.
He’s happy.
So why is he here right now?
Why is my heart breaking all over again?
I worked so hard to be friends,
To be content as friends.

“Your **** is up against my ****.”
“Sorry, I’ll move my leg.”
And he did for a moment.
His hand went under my shirt,
Stroking my stomach.
My breathing got heavier,
I was a terrifying mixture of fear
And anticipation.

I knew I should stop him...

But I didn’t expect it to go farther...

Too many drinks,
I couldn’t think.

He pushed his crotch up against me again.
I wriggled away,
Body tense
Trying to remember
He isn’t mine.
He moved with me,
Not allowing an inch between us.

His hand moved down my stomach,
Down to my hips,
Down...
Down...
Down.
I pulled his hand out.
“What are you doing?!”
“Just helping you out.”
His hand goes back down,
I pull away again.
“Think about what you’re doing,
Think about her.”
“We aren’t exclusive yet.”
He’s back,
Touching me the way he knows I love.
But he shouldn’t be...
He shouldn’t be.

“Just a one time relapse...”
He finishes me off,
And I turn away from him,
Ashamed I let him.
He pulls at the back of my sweat pants
“Rob...”
Pulls down...
Down...
Down.
“You’re not going to be okay if we do this, are you?”
“I’d be fine, it’s you I’m worried about.
What about her?”
“It’ll just be once.”

Just once.

It was technically consensual,
But having to specify
Over and over again,
Hurts.
It shouldn’t have happened without certainty,
Even if I said yes.

College is over
For most of the kids I grew up with,
And now everyone’s getting married
And having babies.
“It’s that time of life”
That’s what I keep hearing,
I’m supposed to feel behind,
And that’s supposed to feel comforting.

Short bottle blonde hair
that catches the light,
tan skin that glows in the evening air.
Enough emotional baggage
to fill a train,
but I guess you have a type.

Jordan it isn't fair.

I shouldn't have let you win me
so easily,
but that doesn't mean I'm not worth anything.

So maybe she's beautiful,
and maybe she needs you,
but you said you wanted me,
I don't need to be broken again.

You found me lying on my kitchen floor
covered in my own *****,
with all the pills in the house
collected in a decorative
plastic basket.
Do you think
I need to be taken for granted
one
more
time?

I'll be fine if you're gone,
I will.
But I don't want you to be.

If you want me
to stop
worrying,
to stop being angry,
stop
talking
to her.

Stop checking her social media
constantly,
stop caring more if you talk to her
than if you talk to me.
You're almost still obsessed with her
and that was okay
when we were first together
and I was trying to give you space to heal,
but it's quickly becoming not okay.

I was your second choice,
regardless of how you argue with me,
I'm not stupid Jordan,
I know.

If you want her
you can't want me too.
I won't let you.

"It's easy with you,
I don't worry about you not being there,
I don't freak out when I get a text from you.
being with you
makes sense,
It's easy."
He says it as if it should be comforting.

"But that isn't love,"
I didn't want to say it,
but it came out anyway.

Easy,
Easy,
EASY.

On our first date I knew I wanted you,
you didn't have to chase me,
you didn't have to try and guess
if I liked you.
I liked you.
I woke up next to you that morning.
Easy.
I'm easy.

You couldn't be with me then, though.
Because it was just a bit of fun.
it was just a bit of easy
no commitment
fun.
I knew that,
at least I thought I did.

Yet you found your way into bed with me
two more times.

And then your really knew you had to stop,
we had to just be friends.
I didn't matter,
I was easy.

Two weeks later,
I'm with you for a weekend,
we're in bed again.
I don't know how to get people to love me
I just know how to get attention.
Easy.

That last day
you demanded an answer from the other girl
in your heart,
made her tell you if she wanted you,
and she said no.
So you asked me,
I said yes,
I didn't make you wait even an hour.
Easy.

I knew I wanted you.
it wasn't a complex decision for me.
Easy.

I met your family,
we all loved each other,
no drama,
no difficulty,
Easy.

Your grandfather died,
you knew I was there for you,
you knew that I'd hold you hand,
your family's hand,
I'd be right there,
ready to help with whatever you needed,
Easy.

Easy,
Easy,
EASY.

I didn't make him chase me,
I didn't make him wait.
I'm just a bit of fun attached to open arms.
No responsibility,
just forgiveness,
and love.
Easy.

I didn't put value on myself,
so neither did he.

I'm supposed to trust him,
but I don't.

Easy

‘...To your own bed now, or...”
You kiss my neck.
I’m tangled around you,
With my hand
Underneath your boxers
Caressing your hip.

You whip my hair
Out of my face
And kiss me,
Hard and unwavering.
You squeeze my breast,
And climb on top of me.

I roll you back over and kiss you softly.
“All right.”
We quickly break away from each other.
“I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow,”
“I love you too.”

I pull my pants on,
And lean over your bed
Demanding one last kiss.
You grab me
And pull my body to yours
With ease,
And for a moment we’re tangled up again,
Your leg between mine,
Rubbing,
And thrusting yourself against me.
And I kiss you
long and unrelenting.
Then I pull away,
Whisper
“Sweet dreams,”
And you mutter a like reply.
And I leave.

Yes,
We’re being good.
But,
We’re still having a bit of fun.

“Honey, you can’t keep living your life to please people.”
But that’s how I survive.

Someday
I won’t be quiet
When I want to scream about injustice.
I won’t hold myself and cry,
I’ll cry in plain sight
And show that what someone said wasn’t okay.

I’ll leave when I want to,
I won’t talk to those who hurt me.
I’ll tell people when they’re rude,
I’ll speak up
When I want to.

But now...
I’m at the mercy of others.
I live to please
Or I don’t get to live.

This is the time of my life
Where I raise my hand
And ask permission.
When I nod politely
At unfairness,
Where my knuckles are clenched white
Behind my back
As I accept whatever treatment I receive.

I do dream of being free,
Make no mistake,
I’m not happy this way.
But this is how I must stay
To survive.

Last night.
It was as if we were strangers
Passing each other
On the street,
Instead of almost twenty years
Of history.

But it didn’t hurt.
It felt...
Okay.

“They don’t get to decide
Who you are
Based off of whatever fragment
Of you
They see.

“You’re you.
You’re not someone else
Just because someone thinks you are.
That’s a dangerous way of thinking.

“Honey, you cant keep letting people
Tell you what you are.
You don’t stop being you
Because they said you’re something else.
All they see are fragments,
Never the complete you.
So what right does anyone have
To tell you
What you are?

“Stop finding your identity
In other people.”

I never said the words
“I tried to **** myself”
To my sister.

We prefer to use things like
“I went through a hard time.”
And occasionally I’ll flippantly say
“I tried to off myself.”

“Suicide”
Is a word
That I’m afraid to utter
For fear
Of upsetting the balance.

She never asked,
I think she thought
That made it easier for me.
But I was found
On a kitchen floor
Passed out,
Covered in my own
*****.
And she never asked
What happened that night.

It hurts the people who love you
When you try to die.
It hurts them so much they can’t talk about it.

I need to.

I need to be able to say
That I tried to do that to myself.

That I was in so much pain
I started to self destruct.

I need to say it out loud
Because I need someone to care
That I did it.

At the dinner table,
We talk about how everyone’s day was,
And I usually say too much
Or get too intense,
And I don’t realize until I’m hushed.

We talk about scarves,
And discount shampoo,
And boys,
And the kids,
And church.

But I don’t really have friends anymore,
I wish you knew that you were just about it.
I wait for you to get home
With your family dog,
We share the same lonely eagerness.

But I’m extra.
I shouldn’t be here.
It’ll be better when I’m gone.

If we all never talk about it,
I guess it’s like it never really happened.

“I want to be friends again...”

That’s all I wanted.

“...for her sake.”

That’s when I realized
I cared a hell of a lot more
Than he ever did.

As much as I’d tried
To hollow myself out
To make room for you,
The healthy side of me
Always fought back,
Fought to push you
Out again
Like an infection.

I knew what men were made of.
Clunky boots
And booming voices.
I knew that alcohol
And smoke
Ran through their veins.

It was truth to me,
Reality.
I understood
That men’s hands were rough
And unrelenting.
That comic books and video games
Are a tempting guise.
Men were made of anger
And demands.
***, power,
and the confusion of the two

But then I met you.
And you’re made of cigar smoke
And cartoons.
Flannel shirts and midnight laughter.
You’re whiskey neat
Gently touching my face
Simply for the pleasure of being near me.

You’re conviction
And ADD,
Religion and cups of black coffee.
I keep waiting for a break
In your love.
I search for the lie
In your kindness.
But you watch TV with your baby sister,
And look for solutions to my worries.
You laugh when I get hot under the collar
And insist on buying me chocolate,
Because you know I’m too polite to ask.

It’s nothing earth shaking,
It isn’t running to each other in the rain.
Not a dozen roses,
Or diamonds.
But I know now
That men aren’t made
Of scary things in the dark.
I know that you’re you,
And I’m yours.

I didn’t mean
To become
The cautionary tale
From my youth.

I only meant
To be free.

I want a place
To rest in,
A home
So badly
It makes me ache

I know the sound of your breathing
When you’re about to have a panic attack.
And that’s the breathing I heard
The last time I will ever step foot
In the house.

Jordan came with me,
Because I didn’t want to do it alone,
And he
Just knows how to take things in stride...
I don’t.

I didn’t want to lose our friendship,
But I also did.

When I moved out,
A lot of things happened.
I started sleeping through the night again.
I stopped having secret panic attacks.
I stopped talking to Rob.
I started praying again.
I stopped reading tarot cards.
I started to just
Enjoy things
Like I hadn’t in months.
And I slept,
I practically slept for three days.

I wanted you to hold me
In the way I used to hold you
When you cut,
Or you threatened to **** your self
When I actually
Tried
To **** myself.
Suddenly I was naked
Without your pinky
Holding mine.

But something else happened
When I let you go,
Suddenly my thoughts
Didn’t revolve
Around keeping you safe,
Keeping you sane,
Keeping you calm.
I just existed.

No mother to quiet,
No friend to babysit.
My god,
I could breathe.
I could just ******* breathe.

Maybe that’s why I was so angry.
His actions weren’t your fault after all...
But I was still so angry with you.

Because our friendship was only about
What you wanted.
What you needed.
Sure,
You listened to me rant and rave,
But it was never about me
Even then.
It was about you.

And McKenna?
He’s what you dreamed of
Since forever.
Do you think I don’t know
That he always came before me?
How could we
Possibly
Be friends with him at your side?

I would never make you choose
Between him and me.
Which is why I chose me
Instead of you.

I’m sorry it’s this way.
I’m sorry I can’t save you anymore.

But now we’re both free.

So darling,
In the moments
You turn around
And catch me staring at you
Wide eyed,
Know that I’m drinking you up.
Carefully filing everything you do in my memory
So I can pull it out
On lonely walks in the park and down the street,
So I can think of you
On cold nights laying in bed.
Because it won’t last,
But I want to remember
Every second.

Home smelled
Like ginger
And cheap liquor.

Like stir fry
And dish soap.

Home smelled
Like saw dust
And cotton yarn.

Like night time showers
And cups of herbal tea.

Home smelled
Like three different fall candles
All lit at once,
And bleach.

Home smelled
Like soy sauce
And garlic.

What was it she used to say?
Like a Chinese
Grocery store..?

Home smelled
Like Warm Vanilla Sugar
And Endless Weekend.

Like pumpkin spice
And stroop waffles.

It smelled like paint
And dried flowers.

When I walk in,
It all
Rushes
Back.

Stir fry,
And pumpkin spice,
It fills my nose
And makes me choke.
My head spins
And my stomach
Feels heavy
Inside me.

Home doesn’t have a smell anymore.

Those are now
The smells of yelling,
Of attempted suicide,
Of loneliness,
And betrayal.

Those are the smells
Of sleepless nights,
Of being called a *****,
Of dreading the sound his clunky boots make against the wood floor,
And their laughter.

Home doesn’t have a smell anymore,
Because I don’t have a home anymore.

Do you want to be in a relationship?

Yes.
Do you?

Yeah.

I’m trying not to take up space
In your life.
Trying to plaster myself to the wall
As only and observer
An art piece.
Occasionally admired,
Taken out
And shown to people,
But mostly just
To decorate an empty room.

I’m trying to be satisfied as that,
But you keep apologizing,
And that keeps reminding me
That I should be allowed more.

So I know
It’s been a while,
And clean cut
Christian kids
Cut out of the same cloth
Like paper snow flakes
Aren’t exactly the easiest for me to fit in with,
But here we are.

I’m a tapestry
Of giving in
To temptation,
The occasional witch craft,
And even drugs,
But I know how to play the part.

I just can’t breathe while doing it.

Take out a glass,
Fill it with ice,
Shake your pride with it
And swallow it.

As the evening sun
Was setting
I was looking up into his eyes
Pleasuring him,
Swirling pretty pictures
With my tongue.
And now
In the night low light
I look up at a steeple.

I don’t belong here any more.
I never did,
But I used to try.
And now
It all feels empty.

Being loved
In return.

I will only
Let him kiss me
While we’re tangled up in bed.

At dinner we are friends.

I will only let him hold me
In private,
Far from the eyes of anyone who would question it.

We walk down the street
Side by side
Never touching.

He tells me about her,
How he doesn’t understand
Whether or not she loves him.

It takes an hour or so
Of holding each other
Before we decide to be
Truly affectionate.

I’ve set myself up
For a good deal of heartbreak.

Have you ever seen
A pumpkin spice
Volkswagen van?

Have you ever smelled
The sick scent
Of your best friend
Laying on your kitchen floor
Covered in her own *****?

Have you ever seen
A girl naked
Having her stomach purged
Of all the poison she put in her body?

Have you ever been too shaky
To walk in a straight line
The next day?

Have you ever gone to work
The day after you tried to **** yourself?

Have you ever told your boss
You might be gone for a week
Because you needed to go to the psych ward,
And had her angry with you
Because she was going to be short staffed?

Have you ever had someone who was once
One of your best friends
Tell you he would do the bare legal minimum
For you?

Have you ever known
That you will never trust anyone
Ever again?

Have you ever woken up
Next to a man who
****** you
After you finished puking your guts out
Because you tried to **** yourself?

Have you ever only remembered
Bits and pieces of having *** with him?

Have you ever seen
A pumpkin spice
Volkswagen van?

We could laugh at anything
When we were young,
Even ourselves.
We’d sit on your kitchen floor
And drink coffee
While listening to colorful music.

It was always the kitchen floor.
Your parents never understood.

We could talk about anything
While sitting
On a magical kitchen floor.

Last night
Is a blur.
I’m told that I was found
Laying there
On the kitchen floor
Covered in my own *****,
Muttering incoherently.

I thought if I drank myself to death
It would look like an accident,
But I mostly did it
Because we didn’t have enough pills
For a cocktail of medication
To put me to sleep.

I remember I was trying to open another bottle
As I slid
Slowly to the floor,
And then
I know I ended up in my bed.
With two friends,
Neither you,
Pushing water into me
While I told them over and over
I was sorry
And I love my family.

On the kitchen floor
You and I found peace of mind,
And on the kitchen floor,
Is where my first true attempt
At death
Ended.

“You don’t have to say you love me,
I will understand.
You don’t have to stay forever
Just because you can.”

I wasn’t enough.
You kept telling me to stop saying that.
But if you took our relationship and boiled it down to a sticky dark residue,
It would show you
I wasn’t enough.

We never said
We loved each other,
Until the end.

“Believe me,
Oh,
Believe me.”

Sitting in your car,
My hand on the door.
I had dabbed the edges of my eyes
To keep the perfectly applied makeup intact.
When I said it,
“I fell in love with you.”
Silence.

“You don’t have to say you love me,
Just because you can.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t love her the way I do,
Maybe I should’ve loved her the way I love you.”
I loved you in the quiet way.
In the way that made me pop the cap off of your beer,
Or walk up behind you and hug you.
In the way that made me stroke your forehead in your sleep,
And learn the touch of your hands.
I didn’t demand anything,
I never demanded from you.

“Believe me.
Oh, believe me.”

You loved me in the way that you would wash my dishes for me,
And give me rides to work
So I didn’t have to walk in the rain.
In the way that you’d cook for me,
And buy me extra towels.
We loved each other in action.
Without demanding anything from each other,
We let ourselves have room
But made clear we were each there.

“You don’t have to stay forever,
I will understand.”

I had it all figured out.
I forced myself to channel my love for you
Into our friendship.
I told myself every time I saw you
That you were never truly mine to lose.
That it was only a few weeks,
That we could make this work.
And then you said it...
“We might not always be friends, just keep an open mind.”
And I took it the way that made my chest swell with hope,
Instead of the way it was meant.

“Believe me,
Oh, believe me.”

And then
One drunken night
You slept over
In my small twin bed.
I tried to keep my body as far from yours
As possible.
I wanted to honor the woman
You were trying to have a family with.
But you touched me.
I told you to think about what you were doing.
You said you wouldn’t tell her,
I said that didn’t make it okay.

Please don’t make me love you again.
Please don’t stay forever,
I’m trying to move on.
Believe me.

I confess,
My blood pounds in my ears,
And my mouth opens before my head catches up to it.

I’ve only ever lived for others.

When I didn’t want to be alive anymore,
I kept going
Not for myself,
But for others.

I’ve been taken from my lifeline,
My codependent
Reason for living.
Other people.

So now I have to slap my own wrist
When I go to help someone,
Keep to myself
Before I try to keep someone.
Live selfishly,
And hope to find myself.

My mouth gets ahead
If my head.
And suddenly I’m saying things
Like “I love you,” and
“Leave me alone.”

My way of self preservation
Was to invest in others
For so long,
And now it must be
To keep only to me.
And I don’t know if I want that life.

Easy there, Ginger.
Quiet your tone.
Don’t let yourself get angry,
Sit there
And take it.
If you want to
Survive.

And everything
Had happened
The way they promised
It wouldn’t.

“He’s just trying
To
Get in
Your pants.”

“He’s just going to use you.”

“He’s only your friend
Because
He’s going to try and have *** with
You.”

“He’s a bad influence.”

“He’s got no redeeming qualities.”

But he,
He is the one sitting with me tonight.
He was the one to hug me tight
And dry my tears.
Not any of you.

I’m winding
The idea
Of loneliness
Around my fingers

Weaving it
In and out
Between my knuckles

I knit my brow
My fingers
And my legs together

Leave my future
To the future,
And content myself
In
Myself.

My vision was blurry
From the water falling onto my face,
His hands pulling me close to him
A soft
Absent minded kiss on the neck.

Sometimes we’re more capable of a deeper love
For one person
In only a month
Than we are for another in two years.

Beer can in hand,
I walked up behind him and folded my arms
Around his waist
Letting the aroma of his cooking engulf me,
I pressed my face into his back
And smelled that busy kitchen smell
In his work clothes.

I’d never been with someone
Who’s fire matched mine.
Someone who encouraged me
To be emotional,
Instead of being afraid of me.
Who held me in dark moments,
But knew when to let go.
In three years Seth didn’t know.
Two years, and Dillon didn’t understand.
But in three and a half weeks
Rob could always tell
When I needed him,
When I needed space,
What was on my mind,
And whether or not
I was lying.

Driving around
In his car after midnight,
Smoking an illegal herb,
And talking about
What keeps us up at night,
And what helps us sleep.
His hand
On my leg,
His fingers locking with mine,
I played with his hair
And we sang along
To old songs
That sad teenagers listen to.

But we aren’t always
Supposed
To end up with someone
Who fits so perfectly into our souls.
Somehow we fit a lifetime of love
In a matter of weeks
And it was complete.

I woke up
To his perfect touches.
It wasn’t that he was gentle,
Or rough,
But perfect.
He knew when to be firm,
And when to be soft,
And I never had to tell him.
Making love in the morning,
And holding each other,
Playing with his hair
As if I’d done so for years,
And he kissed the top of my head
Every few minutes.

We don’t always end up
With our soul mates,
Because we aren’t always their soul mates.

Laughing in the car,
Watching TV,
Getting dinner,
Making dinner,
Him pressing the back of my hand
To his lips.

It can be so perfect,
And burn out
So fast.

I want to stop
Feeling things
In the way that I do.

I took what hurt me the most
And I embraced it.
I took *** into stride,
Even let it attach itself to my identity
Like a burr.

I welcomed men between my legs
To trick myself into believing
That I’m in control,
And then I got I sharp reminder I am not.

I am full of a lot of
Different people’s
Pain.
I drank until it didn’t hurt
I smoked until I couldn’t remember
Why I was sad
I let myself
Die inside.
Burned my body
From the inside out
Just to forget.

I don’t believe in happy endings.

I don’t believe I get to have everything
I ever dreamed of.

I believe in self destruction
In holding what kills you close
So you know when to keep your guard up
And that’s always.

I believe in God.
But I believe he made me as a side character
In a story I keep trying to be the protagonist in.

I believe in me
On my own
Without someone,
Because me
I can control

I miss being held
And feeling like
Somebody loves me.

Dear Deb,
I moved out,
I have my own home.
I make dinner
And have friends over,
I support myself.

My heart aches for my family,
I miss them so much,
It’s only me to take care of now
And how
Do I do that?
It’s never been
Just me
Before.

The more time away
The more angry I get
At my brother
For what he did.
I can think clearly now
And I can see
Where mistakes were made.

I walked out of a sushi restaurant
Tears dramatically streaming down my face,
A man held my hand
And said he would miss “this”,
He would miss me.
And I walked out
Wordlessly.
I could hear you
In the back of my head
Saying I wasn’t a child,
I was a strong woman.

I let myself start talking to
This much older man,
Letting him feed
My need
For validation.
I could hear you asking why.

I’ve lost my center lately,
I miss having a good perspective.
But most of all,
I miss you.

I thought we could be
Maybe I thought
Happy

He came into my life
Like a brightly colored paint splash,
He got all over everything,
Splatters everywhere.

And now I will cut him out,
Gently and neatly
Score around him,
Trace the patterns he left,
And then remove him.

His little fingers are sticky
In the mysterious way
That a toddler’s always are,
But I still hold his hand
In the parking lot.

I started to love
The grass stained
Everyday
Life
In your family.
Suddenly I
Was at home
In a child
Holding me close,
Singing along to songs
In the car,
Shoulder rides,
And trips to the bathroom
Where I helped him wash his hands.

“I’m not going to lie,
I got a call from my ex wife
Yesterday.
The guy she was living with is gone.
I told her I might be interested in something in the future...”
He held my hand
And watched my face for reaction.
“But I want to see this through first.”

I’m a placeholder for her.
A hand to hold
When she’s not there,
Lips to kiss
When she turns away.

“I think there’s more to get out of this. I want to get everything out of this.”
You want to get everything out of me.

I warned him,
I was getting attached.
I never should’ve
Gotten attached.

I’m just a stand in Mommy.

Flipping through men
Like a deck of elaborately
Designed
Playing cards.

Blowing cotton seeds
Of “I love you”
Into the wind.

I’m not ready.

I keep saying that,
And it keeps getting disregarded
Because I’m a woman.
All women are waiting to be loved,
After all.

But I’m waiting for my own love
To wrap around my imperfect body,
Grow into my trauma fueled mind
And give me the chance
To build myself around it.
To cling to it
As if I am a vine,
And it a supporting tree.

But still,
“I care for you.”
“I want you to be mine.”
“We have a connection.”
“You’re special to me.”
“We’re together.”

And no one listens
To my protests.
My discouragement
Makes them believe they can change me.
Makes them believe
The reward will be so much better.

But I’m not ready.

Today my face shattered.

Every fleck of skin
A memory,
I am an intricate collage  
Of our time together.

Every part of my body
Exploded,
I am just a trillion
Tiny pieces
Floating around the room.

There isn’t a part of me
That you didn’t know,
Didn’t touch.

I can’t find anywhere in me
That you didn’t invade.

The private comforts
And hidden parts
Of my body,
Tea, pens, candles, antiques, beer, work gloves, socks, and scarves,
They all have memories of you there.
I can’t enjoy the things
That make me feel happy
Without feeling you hiding there.

Today I shattered,
And every microscopic piece
Shivering in the sunlight
You touched.

“Emotions make people interesting.”

That made my world stop
Spinning.

I’ve controlled all I am
My whole life.

It’s been an internal monologue,
Don’t say too much,
Don’t laugh too much,
Don’t hurt too much,
Don’t let anyone completely in,
Don’t be vulnerable,
Don’t cry,
Don’t get too excited,
Don’t be angry.

Someone
Who
Could be okay with me
Being too much?
How?

I never thought
I’d be the girl to choose,
But here you are
Each begging I choose you.
But I choose me
Always.

He feels like water,
Running up and down my body,
No pause without purpose,
No movement without meaning.
He feels like
I was dropped
Into a pool
Of pleasure,
And he’s enveloping me.

Ed,
Eddie,
Wants to fall in love.
He has plants in his kitchen.
He keeps a washcloth
On his bathroom sink
On it rests his comb,
His toothbrush,
And toothpaste,
All in a neat row.
He takes me to the lake
To look out at the water,
Because he knows
It makes me feel like I’m home.

Rob,
Wants to conquer
And tame me.
He wants
To be the one I choose
Just to win.
He kisses me
At midnight in the rain
Out in the dark
On a hidden sidewalk,
Slips his hand
Down the front of my *******
And plays with my ****.
He says it’s the danger
Of being caught.

James,
Stone,
Jamie,
Wants to sleep with me,
But also doesn’t want
To feel guilty.
So he hides my messages
From his partner
And assures me
She knows he’s polyamorous.

Me?
What do I want?
What do I need?
Peace.
Peace I won’t find
In any of them,
Only myself.
But I have to fight battle,
After battle,
To get there.
So exhausted,
I retreat into their distraction,
And I warn them all,
Of each other’s existence,
And that I don’t want anything real.

But I sing to Eddie,
As I lay on his chest.
I listen to Rob,
As I hold him in my bed.
I nurture James,
Help him cultivate his individuality.
So they think
Maybe they’re important.
And really,
They are.
I can’t help but have them be.

But I can’t handle important right now.

I can’t find comfort
In the thought of being squeezed
Into something I’m not
Again.
I won’t allow myself
To be contorted
Into a shape
That fits their desires.

Eddie wants
To fall in love.

Rob wants
To win me.

James wants
To have release.

And I...
I just want
To find me.

Remember that one book
About the girl with cancer?
The one with that scene about metaphors?

It wasn’t quite my style,
But I remember that part.
Something about
“Hold what can **** you between your teeth,”
Said a boy with cancer
And a cigarette.

I,
A girl,
A **** survivor,
And child born into a life
Of domestic violence,
Hold men in my arms.

Naked,
Against my *******,
Between my legs.
I hold them
And know,
To take something dangerous
And hold it under my control
Before it kills me.

The grill is smokey and black
Grease sizzles
And pops
Splashing into my face,
And up my arms
Leaving
A seemingly random
Family
Of blotchy red dots.

My lips have met
Many dangerous things.
Burning beverages,
Men’s bodies,
Even once
A slightly illegal herb.
Tonight it’s candy bars
And cigarettes.

I woke up
In someone else’s life.
I woke up and suddenly
I worked at a disorganized cafe,
I lived in a strange house,
in a strange town.

The grease
Sparks
And hits
Just above my right eye,
I gasp in surprise and pain,
And withdraw my hand,
But the job must be done,
And I’m back at it again.

I puff my cigarette
On a strange front porch,
That I rent
The privilege
Of sitting on.
I consume a favorite chocolate bar,
Which is something I never used to do.
Take deep breaths,
And try to forget
This new life
I fought so hard for.

“I learned the truth
At seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skin.”

I learned the truth
At twenty-one,
I was sad, recently single,
Sitting in a black truck
Dark as the night
Turning our bodies
Into silhouettes,
When he took my hand firmly in his
And moved it down his body
Onto his *******
And I told myself
This is what I wanted.

I learned the truth at seventeen
That men want to touch you,
And they don’t always care
Whether or not you want them to.
I learned it when my high school sweetheart
Pressed himself into my *******,
When he pushed his hand
Into my ******* and touched me,
And I recoiled.

I learned the truth at thirteen
When my mother left my father,
And he didn’t want me.
We had a relationship of convenience,
He was only my father
When I was easily accessible
And easy to deal with.

I learned the truth
At nineteen,
When my high school sweetheart
Forced his **** into me
The last time I ever saw him.
I learned that men don’t always
Care about no,
And safewords don’t keep you safe.

I learned the truth
At twenty-one
That men want someone
Thirty years younger than them,
And that the attention
I got felt good
After years of not feeling good enough.

I learned the truth
Mere weeks before I was twenty
That I wanted a man to touch me again,
And I wanted to feel safe.
I lost my virginity
With a man carved out of sunshine,
And I watched his light die
Almost two years later.

I learned the truth at twenty-one,
That I will never trust anyone,
That love was meant for nice girls,
With pastel sweaters
And clear skin,
With nice two parent homes,
And high school sports trophies.
I learned that I am the only one,
Who will ever take care of
Me.

Peace
In the laughter
Of my sister’s daughter.
The ringing singing
Of playtime.

Peace
In the squealing
of my sister pushing her son
In his wheelchair
As they play tag
With his siblings.

Peace
In the scolding
In the fussing
As my niece has her hair brushed,
In the tears as bedtime is declared.

Peace
In my brother-in-law
Racing his two oldest
Down the sidewalk
To the playground.

There is peace
In this home.
Safety in the discipline,
Kindness in the scolding,
Love in the story time.

Peace
In the home
My sister built.

A sweet
Sad Christian girl
Walked into a bar,
And tending it
Stood
A disciple
Of all cautionary tales
She’d ever heard.
And he poured her a drink.

She sat,
Legs crossed
Tied in a bow,
And he pulled the string,
With just a smile
And a few looks
That lasted too long.

In the arms of a sinful man,
Is where I
fantasize
about being.

His laugh is impish,
His smile devilish,
He seems to have a secret
Behind his eyes.

Musicians have the best hands
After all.

It feels good to have
His eyes on me.
It feels good to look up
At him
And catch him
Looking at me.

One sided
Sideways glances
Are lonely.
To steal a moment
Of drinking in
A person’s humanity,
Catch the laugh,
The nervous chatter,
The awkward adjustment
To his bracelet,
And find him looking back at me
Makes me feel
Alive and present again.

His brief sigh
As the customers all fan out around the bar
Before he launches
Into his traditional speech,
And see him looking at me
Without the same fallacy,
The same false
Flamboyance,
Is an exhale
After holding your breath
Underwater for too long.

To see his body in the night,
To not have to worry
About who else is seeing it,
To just let it be
An art piece on display
For whoever he welcomes,
Me included,
Is so worry free
And calming.

His silver hair
Catches the lowlight.
My youthful skin
Only just of drinking age
Glowing in the night,
And I know
I shouldn’t look at him
The way I do,
But he looks like life.
Like vibrant
Life,
And I thirst for it.
I want his liveliness
To flow through my veins.
I want to wear his smile
On my neck,
Between my *******,
Or my legs...

“It makes me so mad,
Because you’re giving into the daddy issues stereotype.”

It makes me so satisfied,
To just exist
Without consequence.

It’s night
I’m sitting in a bar,
Sipping a foreign strange tea
That makes my tongue numb,
And my brain calm.
There’s faint tribal music playing
Incense burning
Evaporating
The raw feeling
In the back of my head
From picking apart my brains.
There he is,
Silver hair,
Twinkling boyish laughter,
And eyes that I catch wandering.

After a few drinks
I recline in one of the arm chairs
My head tilts back
Over the cushion
Neck stretched
Hair tumbling down behind the chair
In a red waterfall,
Loose shirt
Falling down my body
Exposing my *******.
He walks by,
And lingers just an extra second.
He told me he was looking
And that I have beautiful skin.

A free drink,
A heavy handed pour,
Feeling his gaze
Burning into my body,
Down my head,
Neck,
Shoulders,
Small of my back,
Everything,
Drinking me in
As I walk away.
He told me himself.

Silver hair,
An eighty’s rocker,
Singer songwriter,
An interesting story
In a tempting binding.

If I have daddy issues,
Maybe he’s how I explore them.