Room temperature beer,
Petal pink bra,
Grey sweatpants that should be in the wash.

A sip of beer
And then a deap exhale.

Ink smudging my fingertips.

Two pillows,
One person.

One person,
And a lukewarm beer.

Do you feel that?
It’s hunger.
Plain, raw animalistic instinct,
Hunger.

The fat girl wants her fix.

The ex
Skinny
Queen *****
Is hiding away in her room,
Dreaming.
Dreaming of trans fats and sticky
Perfect
Corn syrup,
Of powdered, fluffy,
Luxurious sugar,
And crispy, crinkly,
Crackles on your tongue,
Against your teeth
Deap fried
Junk calories.

While she lusts after that feeling
Of being too full to be awake,
Drifting off into sleep,
Entrancing herself with flavor and sensations,
She pinches the skin over her ribs and stomach.
She rolls the soft fat
In her hands,
To remember.

Remember you’re fat.

Remember you aren’t enough.

Don’t eat.

It isn’t worth it.

Oops,
She opened the door.
The gates have swung open
And out spills grease,
And glorious salt,
And sweet confections.
The sweet taste of self loathing.

That *******
Build up
To the cravings finally being met.
That comfort of knowing there’s food,
there’s food that no one can take out of her hands.

Do you feel that?
Hunger.
Basic survival
Reminder
Hunger.

It’s a beautiful ride.
Everything that only matters
To you is there.

My drive has shoulder kisses,
And my favorite beer,
Jasmine tea,
And honey.

There’s miles and miles of green leaves,
Look up at the sky
And there’s snow encrusted trees.

Pots of coffee,
And smiles from practically strangers,
But at the end?

What’s at the end?

No where.

All the way things I find
Joy in,
The things that I live for,
Don’t take me anywhere.

You wanted to be friends,
Which made me nervous.
That didn’t stop you.

You wanted to write a poem,
Which made me think I’d look foolish.
That didn’t stand in your way.

I didn’t want you to see the poverty
I lived my life in,
But that didn’t bother you at all.

My family is crazy,
They’ll drive almost anyone away.
They’re not the cute kind of crazy,
They’re the medicated (or should be) kind of crazy,
My sister yelled at you,
That didn’t deter you.

In the middle of sobbing
Shaking
Sobs,
Anxiety attacks,
And insomnia,
You stayed on the phone,
Or with your arms around me.
Every melt down,
Every pain,
You never left.
That never stopped you.

You’ve always fought for me.
It’s my turn now
To fight for you.

Your hands had become a comfort to me,
So when you pressed them to my chest
I wasn’t afraid.
But you didn’t stop
At my skin,
You pushed through my flesh,
Bent my ribs back
Like wire,
And pulled my heart out.

You dropped it on the ground,
Repulsed,
As if it were a spider,
Or some other unsightly pest.

I healed my chest without it,
Sewed up my flesh,
Because I didn’t want you to see me
Break myself more
Trying to fit it back into
The grotesque cavity.

It hurts more without it.

I tried to swallow it down
With my pride,
Down,
Down,
Down,
The dark well.
So at least it would be safe inside me.

It lives now as a lump in my throat
That I feel constantly
And won’t go away.

If ever you wanted to hold me

If ever you wanted to tell the truth

If ever you wanted to love me

If ever you wanted to put your hand behind my head as we crashed hips in bed

If ever you wanted a future

Please

If there was anything I used to believe
It was that he loved me.

The Fool signifies new beginnings,
Because only a fool would want
To start over.

I feel like a fool.

I told your mother
My plans for our wedding,
I named our child,
And dreamed up fantasies
To whisper in your ear.

I imagined
A magical land,
A large bed in a small apartment,
Fat cats to purr beside us,
And warm blankets
Tying our bodies together
As we twisted and turned in our sleep.
And windows,
I would have to have windows.

They say life is a highway
We’re in two cars
Speeding toward each other
With our necks sticking out of the windows,
Trying to find a way
To gently collide
Without dying.
But we’re going too fast,
So fast
The breath has been ripped from my lungs.
Get ready to crash.

My older sister said,
“Everyone has a list.
Every person has things about them that are bad,
You’ve just got to find someone who's list you can deal with.”

You’re passion.
You are filled with passion in every thing you do.
You have passion in your loneliness,
And in that you have desires.

Beginning again is horrible,
It’s erasing the bad with the good.
It’s seeing where the beautiful memories and the horrible mistakes weave into each other,
And burning both.
Only a fool would begin again.

But I’m a fool.

A fool
For you.

Have you ever
Wanted to
Disappear?

Be a walking pair
Of invisible
Eyes and ears.

Give in to your bloodlust
For information
And appalling
Curiosity.

Find out
What he
Really thinks of me.
What he says about me
Behind my back.

Have you ever
Wanted to
Disappear?

Be a nothing.

Exist
Merely
As a part
Of an ever changing
Glorious universe.
Feel the vibrations
And the warmth,
The cold
And the wind.

Not have to live
With the responsibility
Of making anyone happy.
Not me.
I wouldnt have to be happy.

Have you ever wanted to disappear?

The flowers were a dizzying kaleidoscope
Of orange,
Red,
Yellow,
And purple,
The wine glasses glittered in the lowlight
Easily distracting my eye,
Tempting my mind into a past memory with candlelight and soft touches.

My father commanded the room.
His voice still makes me feel sick
When I hear the beginning of frustration in it.
I begin to cower inside
Whenever his tone is stressed,
I think of him hitting my mother.
It disgusts me that he prayed a blessing over a brand new marriage.

As we bowed our heads in polite resignation,
And I felt alone again...
Cast away by a father who terrifies me,
And again,
By a lover
Who found me too overwhelming.
I listened to the nightmare of my childhood’s voice drone on,
Addressing God,
And the beautiful flowers and gowns faded away
To lonely darkness.

Then,
Pulling me from a fearful stupor,
My little sister’s hand
Held my own,
we laced our fingers together
Under the pure white table cloth,
Squeezing gently.
The words coming from the lips
Of the man who induced my first trauma,
And the memory of the man I missed so much,
Were cleared from my mind;
And all that remained
Were the words of my sister,
“What do I always say? I love you more than any boy ever could.”

Molly,
Molly Jane.

I never told him that was going to be your middle name,
He just knew he was going to name you Molly,
But I thought of you as Molly Jane.

You were going to be perfect.

We were going to be perfect.

You were going to have little ginger curls
And big hazel eyes,
And chubby legs,
And your father’s pout.

We were all going to love each other.

I never knew how we would make it work
But I knew we would love each other.

He didn’t.

He didn’t love me.

He loved the idea of us,
He loved wiping away a broken woman’s tears
And fixing her.
That was what he loved.

But Dillon,
Regardless of what I drunkenly slurred to my family tonight,
You’re no fool.
You knew in your gut you needed more than that,
And when you look inside yourself,
You know that’s all it was.
It wasn’t me you loved.
You loved being needed.
At least for a while...

I’m not a charity case.
You don’t get to be with me
Out of pity.

But I wanted you.

I’m a woman at war with myself,
Trying to recover from the whiplash you left me with.

All I know
In the pit of my stomach
Is you’re both gone.
Molly Jane,
And Dillon.

I’m stronger than you,
I want you to know that.

Before I was strong enough to love me
I made myself strong enough to love you.
Before I was strong enough to get through a night by myself
I made myself strong enough to talk you through your earliest AM.
When I was so angry with you I couldn’t breathe
I would pick up the phone, I would choose to love you anyway.

Love isn’t having warm fuzzy feelings all the time.
Love is feeling like ****
And still putting the other person first.
Love is being betrayed
And taking care of you anyway.

Love is more than you feel for me.

You care for me,
I don’t question that you care for me.
But I love you with an iron will you don’t have.
I love you with a power you have never felt.
I love you like a mother feeding her child while she goes hungry.
I love you like as a person dying, but asking still if you’re in pain.

You don’t have that strength.

You can choose that strength,
Or I can choose myself.

It turns out you were right...
No one is ever going to want me.

It was always a joke,
“I couldn’t make it”
Was always just a game,
You were always there anyway,
You always came,
It felt like magic.

You wove your way into my every day life,
You took over the small private comforts
That I used to stay alive,
Teapots,
Work gloves,
Scarves,
Mugs,
You pushed yourself into my existence.

Every time the world was destroying me,
Every time it was too much,
Every time I couldn’t handle it all,
You were suddenly there,
Like magic,
Like my own little miracle.

Please just give me one more tiny miracle...
Don’t do this to me.

He loved her more than me.

She was this beautiful force,
Living in the night,
She could even pull him back into bed
In the day,
Keep him there,
Keep him from me.

She was soft and strong,
She never wanted to let go.
I could always see her face
In his eyes,
Looking back at me,
Gloating over her prize.

I could reach into his flesh,
And try to dig out his heart,
But her hands were always there,
There before me,
And they’re there now,
After me.

He never loved me like he loved her.

He never loved anything like he loved her.

I can’t come second to a mindset.

I won’t come second to nighttime plague.

He loved his depression more than he loved me.

I’ve been locked out of love,
Hands pounding on the doors,
Wearing a straw dress
Soaked in kerosene,
Standing on hot coals.

Remember me?
It’s me.
That girl from high school
Who wouldn’t date you.
I work at a gas station now.

I grew out my hair,
Gained thirty pounds,
Never got to college,
And I got *****.

How do you like me now?
Are you still irresistibly attracted to me?
Dodged a bullet, huh?

I hope it helps
That angry fifteen-year-old
Inside of you
To see me like this.

I’m twenty now,
And I still live at home,
I don’t have a car,
And I’m only working part time.

I want you to know
I never thought I was anything special,
I simply wasn’t attracted to you.

I bet it doesn’t hurt you
So much anymore,
Seeing me like this
Makes high school seem further away...

Seeing you?
Just reminded me that I’m a failure.

I couldn’t tell from so far away
Whether he was a star
Or a satellite.

I hate my body.

I hate the curves
And bulges,
I hate the fat
And folds.

I hate the stretch marks
And freckles,
I hate my round plump face,
And my puffy chin.

I hate my short neck,
And my uneven *******,
I hate my fat thighs,
And saggy ***.

I hate my stomach,
And my chubby arms,
I hate my calloused feet,
And my small hands.

But most of all...

I hate not being enough.

I found my solace today
In the green grey
Of the rainy day outside.

I lost the feeling in my fingers
This early afternoon,
I lost my breath
In the steam of the ratatouille
In the shining ***
As I stirred it.

“When you’re not feeling good,
You have to treat yourself
Like a baby.
Did you eat? Did you sleep? Did you drink water?”

The problem runs deeper than that.

The problem is I still smile at strangers
Even though what’s going on inside me
Is terrifying.
The problem is,
I had to tell a very polite detective
What my high school sweetheart did to me,
And I can’t stop feeling his hands,
His mouth,
His breath,
God,
His breath.
His *****,
On my body.

But I found solace in the rain today,
I found solace in an orange tabby
On my lap,
Content to sit there
And purr.

Somehow I will conquer this.

I moved my bed
To the other side of my room
To help my sleep,
To help me feel
Like that wasn’t where
I was violated.

You would think that in the months
That followed
After I truly understood
What he had done to me,
I would’ve run from the bed
It happened in.

But no.

I spent most of my time there.

I quit my job,
And slipped in and out of sleep
All day, every day.
I shut down.
I spent almost all of my time
In bed,
Letting my life
Pass me by,
Because I couldn’t stand
Participating anymore.

That corner of my room
Across from where I sleep
Still haunts me.

Thinking of what happened there,
Talking
About what happened there,
Makes me want to
Burn the sheets,
And peel off my skin,
Rip off the face he kissed,
And staple my legs closed.
So that no one,
No one,
Can ever do that to me again.

Thinking about what
He did to me
Makes me feel like I have to throw up,
And perhaps that would exile
The fear in my belly,
And banish the memories.

When I was a girl,
I tried very hard
To fill this room up
With love for myself,
I painting the walls
With kind words,
I tried to turn it into
A sanctuary.

He tore down the walls
Of my boundaries,
My privacy,
My safety,
And my dignity.
He stole it from me.

I spent over a year rebuilding
And taking it back,
I was doing fine.
I want you to understand,
I was doing fine.

I bought new sheets,
And new underwear,
I moved my bed,
I got new clothes,
I got new medication,
And a new job,
And someone who loves me.

I was doing ******* fine.

And now it’s all crashing down again.
It’s fresh
All over again.

It hurts all over again,
And hurt isn’t a strong enough word.

I want you to understand
How horrible this is for me,
But I know you won’t.

Every one of my belongings with me
Is damp from the mist of night.
The smell of the fire is in my hair,
Hair has a habit of holding scents
And thoughts
And hands.

My head is like the sun right now,
With planets orbiting.
Each planet it’s own worry,
The surrounding asteroid belt
Is just raindrop fears on a tin roof.

The trees were supposed to hide me.
The leaves were supposed to cradle me.

High school was never supposed to end,
We were all supposed to stay the best of friends.

If anything has become evident on this little trip,
This galavant across the countryside
It is that we aren’t one life anymore,
We are four.

We were all supposed
To stay young forever,
And high school was
Never supposed to end.

You've seen these sights
Through my poetry,
My romanticized words.
Now look at them with your own eyes
Scrutinize
My rose colored glasses.

You've unwrapped my body
In all it's flawed glory,
I've let you into my very skin,
You breathe with me
As you stroke my hair.
You've seen through my words
Like a blind man
Feeling out the world.
And here we are,
Here we are,
I hope I don't disappoint you,
You see I love beauty,
And I love to describe it,
I love to skip over the ugly parts,
Until the last moment,
As a slap in the face dose of reality.

But I didn't try and talk you
Into one of my fantasy worlds
When I lay before you
In bare vulnerability.
The truth is I didn't want to.

I've made strangers
See glassy lakes,
And golden
Drying flowers,
And music in silence,
And hardship in laughter,
Yet it was you
Who loved these things,
That I wanted to see
The harsh nothing,
The vacancy
Behind my eyes.

So this is my world,
It's nothing special,
Hardly what I made it seem,
Just a central New York
Dream.
But here you are,
More beautiful than any dream,
Looking upon my reality.

Not the prettiest
Or the skinniest
Or the curviest,
Not the insane party girl with a brain,
No growing into my looks,
Or glasses to take off,
Or mini skirt to don,
No pompoms to wave,
Or dying of cancer relatable teen story,
Or whatever is in style these days.

You’re not quite the reformable ****,
Just good from the beginning.
Not the cautious nerd
Who can’t talk to girls,
Or the bad boy with a heart,
Or the secretly smart prep,
Not a lonely outcast,
Not the most popular guy in school,
Or the least,
Or whatever is aimed at insecure teens these days.

No peers to tell us
We’re from different worlds,
No exploitation of a killer illness to make us more romantic,
Neither of us can dance,
You were never my best friend’s boyfriend...

Just two people,
Not dramatic enough
For a teen movie.

Just two side characters
Who fell in love.

Yellow city lights,
Streaks of red,
Huffing and puffing
Trucks and buses,
Dripping roof,
Cold sidewalk,
Wearing my happy red shoes.

I’d like to take up the earth
In my hands,
And fold it over like fabric.
Then stitch through the grassy weave
And bring your home
Closer to me.
But though I cannot make that happen
You are only a time travel
Of two hours away.

You can measure it in
Minutes,
Songs,
Miles,
Hot beverages
And scenery,
I’ve even measured it in rain,
The space between
You and me.

Here I am,
In my small town version of a city,
Sitting on my duffel bag,
Because I’d rather shiver in the outdoors,
And you’re only a matter
Of Beatles albums away.

I suppose
maybe I fancied
that the past can grow into my hair.

That all the hands that touched it
don't wash out.
That all the lustful looks
at my childhood scalp
wove their way
into the strands.

And all of my
self-loathing and hate
attached itself
from my brain
to the roots,
and grew out into
the red.

That's probably why I cut it off
so many times.

another thing
for people to judge me by,
even though they're just another way
to keep breathing.
But they're visible,
and all things visible are judged.

still look at his facebook.
You know,
just to see what he's doing,
who he's hurting.

need a song so badly
you can't breathe?

But nothing fits.

Nothing plays back the story in your head
and makes sense of it.

Nothing mimics your racing heartbeat
in dark validation
until it slows down.

This morning I woke up
with the wound up tight
feeling in my chest
from a panic attack.

I started having anxiety
in my sleep again.

That hasn't happened
in a long,
long
time.

That messed up feeling
in your stomach
when you've avoided sleep
until the sun came up.

Have you ever known it?
The tightness in your jaw,
the pain in your head,
from jamming
your molars together.

Have you ever stayed up
so late
that your body started to shake?

And suddenly
you're cold sweating,
and your eyes are burning,
you feel sick all the next morning,
maybe even the whole day.

Have you ever had a nightmare about the man who sexually assaulted you?

I have.

It’s a cruel mistress.

It airbrushes our stomachs
And our thigh.

It becomes friendly between our legs,
Under our arms,
And I’m our heads.

Sweet little shop girl,
always smiley,
always happy,
That's what they tell me,
"little miss sunshine."

They don't know,
they don't know,
that I wake up some mornings before the sun does
to make them their morning coffee
with the weight of his hands still on me.

And none of them
will ever know.

And none of my friends know
that I'm attracted to women.

I'll never tell
people I've known
since I was
fresh out of the garden of toddlerhood.

I'll never tell them that I,
another woman,
Can appreciate the art of *******,
the beautiful curve of female legs.

I can hide behind
the fact that I also like men.

There's so much
I still can't say
in this era of freedom
and pride
and acceptance.

I don't see the dead look
in my mother's eyes
so often anymore,
but I remember it.

I remember her being nothing.

I remember how she would sob,
full
body shaking,
lung-crushing,
sob.

I carry those memories of her.

His face is sunshine
and his hands are kindness,
his body is warmth,
and his smile is relief.

to hear my own voice,
I cry to hear nothing
but the pounding of my own blood
in my ears.

is freedom.
*** is a demonstration
of my victory,
my liberation
from my oppressive youth.
*** is a moment
when no judgemental eyes
scrutinize my body,
just loving
tender looks,
drinking up my essence

What's the truth?
What's true?
The truth is
he hurt me.
The question is
which "he"?
There's been so many.

My father's hands
were so large
my child hands could only hold
*******.
My high school sweetheart's  hands
were long and spindly,
and soft from lack of work.

Time is the difference
Between crying when a boy
Touches you between your legs,
Because he wouldn’t listen to no,
And laughing when a man
Traces gentle pictures on your skin
Because he waited for your yes.

If it wasn’t the most beautiful
Thing
I’ve ever seen,
It was one of them.

Floating white seeds,
Overwhelming the air.

The wind blew down a gust
Of them,
It was as if the air was water to them,
Roaming in slow motion,
Only disturbed by the ripples
Of my breath.

The sun was almost completely gone,
Nothing but an eyelash
On the horizon,
It turned every perfect puff
Blue.

I ran out to them
Allowing childlike desires
To overtake me.
The simple pleasure
Of knowing my body was in their midst,
That they would touch me
And be soft.

The memory still haunts me,
And I don’t mind.

See how the sunset liquid
Glitters
The crystal glass,
With lipstick on the brim
Instead of lemon.

Smell the rich foreign scent,
Making itself at home
On once innocent
Young lips.

Lonesomeness
In a burning beverage.

You paid more attention
To your red letters
Than to the colored words of
Jesus.
I guess accessibility is what it takes
To name our identity.

Mean words were accessible to you,
Easier to come by than scripture.
Already imprinted in your head
From childhood,
No need for memorization
Or word for word quotation,
Or chapter and verse
References.
It didn’t matter who said what.

Cruelty is easy.

Cruelty’s simplicity made it easy
To write your own red letter verses
On your body.
After all,
All you had to do to find the right tool
Was to open a drawer and find a razor blade,
Not leaf through thousands of strangely thin pages
And tiny columned sentences.

So now in this new era
Of adulthood,
I try to make love
Accessible to you,
I try to make it accessible to myself.
No more red letters in pale skin,
Just glowing love
Held in the palms of our hands
Well past midnight,
Made of pixelated letters
Typed by nail-bitten thumbs.

I had a dream that you
Swallowed
a hand grenade.

I'm taking control
of the memories you left me with.
I'm taking away your power
to hurt me with your past self.
I'm holding the noose
around your neck,
white-knuckled,
and as *******
as hell after a rainstorm.

I won't bat away reminders of you
out of fear
anymore,
but because I choose to.
Your bad memories
won't stop me from holding
the man I love.

You don't get to ruin my life.

I couldn't stop you
from hurting me then.
But I can stop you
from hurting me.

I'm going to keep building a life
for myself,
because I **** well
decided to.
Not because the past
magically went away,
not because I was magically healed
of trauma...
but because I'm digging my heels in
and saying no.

I'm taking ownership
of my past relationship,
I'm taking ownership
of my mistakes.
I'm not locking them up
out of fear anymore,
not because I feel like
I'm a child again
and I can't protect myself,
but because I'm a woman
and I can,
and I'm angry,
and I own what has been done to me.
It's under my command.

I'm going to blaze into
my twentieth year
like a hornet
that had been trapped and shaken
in a jar,
who just had the lid removed.

I have ownership
over my brain.

-----WARNING, EXPLICIT CONTENT, MAY BE TRIGGERING----

My stomach makes me feel disgusting.

I’ve always been short,
Had thick thighs that puberty blessed me
With,
And mostly even *******,
And then there are the stretch marks,
That have only bothered me a little bit
Because they were on the inside of my legs,
And not hard to hide.

When I was nine years old,
My older sister pasted makeup
Across my face
For fun,
I don’t remember the fun.
I remember when she told me my lips were too plump,
And said she could shrink them
With the wave
Of a magic
Red
Crayon.
And here I am.
Plump lips,
Round cheeks,
Small deep-set eyes.
A complexion marred by freckles
And tiny acne scars.

And I took that small portion of body shame
Through puberty
With me,
Wondered why the boys
Didn’t objectify me,
Because in our world,
In a woman’s world,
We’re breastfed from birth
To know that if we aren’t
Objectified
We aren’t
Pretty,
And if we aren’t pretty
We aren’t
Worth
Anything.

So the first boy who wanted my body
In the summer of my youth,
My half-baked adulthood,
Seemed like a Godsend.
And I followed him
Like God himself.
It took me over three years
To figure out
That kisses weren’t supposed to hurt.

I protected him
Like he was a child,
Forgave him like a final hope I had set all my dreams on,
Ignored his lies like a slave bows to a master’s blows.
And he knew
That everything I said no to,
All it required to make me give in
Was the threat of no longer
Wanting me.

He ignored me for only a week to touch me again.
And I let him.

He kept me
As a pocket lover,
One he could take out
And put away on a whim.
Made me comfortable enough with him
To be naked,
And naked enough to remember that I ate more than him.

And after months of pushing the line,
Doing little things
And then apologizing,
Or claiming he was just kidding.
He waited until I was primed,
I watched him think about it.
I saw the thought
In those cold blue eyes.
Saw them storm into the waters of blue,
And crash grey,
As he bit his lip and decided.

He held my wrists,
After lulling me into a sense of safety and playfulness
Whenever he did anything of the kind,
And then...

Most people don’t think of an abusive man performing oral *** as his first choice of attack.
I always thought they’d forcefully take
Instead of forcefully give.

But he ignored our safe word,
And kept my wrists pinned.
I was too stunned to fight harder than that.
I was too stunned.
Too confused.
Wasn’t this love?
He wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t love...
He fought through my protests
And I gave in.
He knew I would,
He was too sure of himself as he pushed through my argument.

I went home and cried that night.
I told him I didn’t want to do it again.
He reassured me he didn’t mind.
But after a few days of his cold shoulder,
I realized again,
Just how much I was willing to do
For his attention.

He always loved leaving little bruises on my skin,
Little places he’d kissed more aggressively.
At first,
As a teenager
Who barely knew anything about such things,
I didn’t mind at all,
I thought this was all so
Very
****.
And maybe it was in the beginning.

But then he got harsher.
I’d moan harder just so he would stop,
Because he wouldn’t listen when I said it hurt.
I’d look in the mirror at my purple and blue
Ty dyed skin,
And pull my clothes on
In a hurry
So I didn’t have to look at me.

As time went on it hurt more.

How can I explain what it was like
To have little things
Like that,
Things I used to enjoy,
Suddenly cause so much pain
I’d count the seconds until he stopped.

My conservative Christian upbringing
Made me feel disgusting and shameful
When I thought of talking about how
When he used to playfully slap my **** it was just fun and games,
And then suddenly he slapped me so hard he’d leave a throbbing red hand mark on my body.

It was a violent
Terrifying
Thirst for ***
And strength.

Screams of pleasure turned to screams of pain.

And in the moment where he had his **** in my mouth,
Moving in and out in a sick rhythm,
As I stared blankly at his pleasure,
I realized that was all I was anymore...
His pleasure.
I felt an emptiness I can’t explain.

The only thought in my mind,
Was “I’m just a toy.”
A toy he could break,
And then patch up
Just enough
To use again,
And break,
And place a piece of tape,
Over
And
Over
And
Over
Again.
And if I said no,
All he had to do was not answer a few texts for a couple weeks.

But that wasn’t the final straw.
That wasn’t the last of it.

“Let’s just stick it in and see how it feels.”
He’d said it at least eight times and told me
He was joking every time I said no.
That was the last piece of my dignity and boundaries
I had held onto.

The last time I saw him he said it again.
After he had “accidentally” partially penetrated five times.
What if he got bored of me saying no?
What if he got bored of me?
I played along with the idea for a moment,
And he pushed for a yes.
I was saved by my ride
Pulling into the driveway.

I went home and cried again.
Sobbed bitterly.

I wish I had kicked him off
Instead of humored him,
Even if it had only been considering it for a few minutes.

And bare in mind
I still thought
That I was the crazy one.
That he hadn’t done anything wrong.

That was the last few months of winter.
Come late summer,
I was dating the best friend he had always hated.
And that best friend’s kisses were soft.
Soft as a gentle bit of sunshine
Kissing my face through a canopy of green leaves.
And his touches waited for permission,
His hands waited for invitation,
His lips waited to be welcomed,
And his tenderness was there from the beginning.

In a moment of his sunshine beauty,
I had flashbacks,
And knew something
Had been very
Very
Wrong,
With the last boy.
Because this one was loving
Before he claimed he loved me,
This one would stop at the word “no”,
And kiss my forehead,
And hug me close,
And never made a sign
He minded.
He was safe.

And then I knew what the bruises meant.
What holding my wrists meant.
What ignoring me meant.

I thought the world would be fundamentally different,
But it kept going.
My brain was an orchestra
Of sirens,
And a kaleidoscope
Of red flags.
And yet
Everything outside of my body
Was still the same.
And my body became even more disgusting to me,
A monument
To the pain
He inflicted on me.

That’s why I’m only eating 1,560 calories a day,
That’s why my stomach makes me feel disgusting,
That’s why I accidentally gained
15 pounds,
Because I can’t look at myself.

And I don’t want the truest love I’ve ever known,
To see the same body he saw.
The same body I had to watch abused.

I can't stand to exist in this shape anymore,
yet here I am.
I'm sitting in dangerous anger
in my dispised skin.
I woke up today,
and I will wake up again tomorrow.
Eventually, my body will have new memories,
my fingers are slowly learning
the familiarity of a safe hand,
and my voice is learning
happy sounds.

But it takes time to relearn
how to keep living.

You can smell the lake right now.

I'm sitting on my doorstep
With the sunshine starting to sink
And blurring
My vision.
Thinking.

The other day
My therapist asked me,
How often do I feel safe,
Content,
And at peace?

Rarely.

For a while
A felt it only with him,
The sunshine in my life.
But I want to feel it on my own.

There are kittens playing
On our patio,
I've got my crocheting
Wrapping around me,
It's peaceful.
And I'm even on my own.

You can smell the lake right now.

Golden cheesy pasta,
And golden shining hair.
Comfy clothes and cuddling.
Look at us,
Our family's sinners
Rotten to our cores.

We've got painted toe nails,
And colorful vocabularies.
I got the first tattoo in our
Conservative family,
And you're our first
Real
Live
Gay.

I sit in the sanctuary
Of my religion,
And lay in my bed of sin.
You live in a back country town,
Where all the boys want to
"Turn you straight."

We're a couple of museum
Rejects,
Kicked out of the family
Hall of fame.
But it's okay,
It's okay,
Because Goonies
Never say die.