-----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.

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.

Murky brown water,
Probably won't last long.

I've perched myself on a stone wall
In a graveyard
This muggy evening.
My pail redhead skin
And maroon painted toes
Are a startling contrast
Against the dark
Evaporating stream below me.

Softened stones, And scared thoughts,
Probably won't last long.

The adjusting of the season
Leaves mowed grass spat
Out by a man-made monster
In the water,
And orange tainted leaves.
Small fish bicker with each other,
And turn over with a glint
If their silver bellies.
My stomach is tight
With anxiety.

Mud caked banks,
Probably won't last long.

A dragonfly
Befriends my toes,
Green shine,
Suspended in the air.
My fears for my future
Buzzing in my head.
Crickets clicking
At the sinking sun.
The abundance of rain
Must have overfilled this brook in the early summer,
And now it's dying.

There's so much hope for me, and my "talents", my bright future.
It probably won't last long.

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 skin deep today.
Only as internal
As facepaint.

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 ugly Monster energy hoodie
She wears every day,
Her hair swept back in a greasy mess,
A knife with a mushy handle
That was left in the sanitizing water too long
In hand
As she gingerly dices lettuce.
She always gets quiet when she criticizes me.
I’m just trying to earn my minimum wage,
But she had a bad day at home,
So she’ll find fault in whatever I’m doing.

Go home and fall asleep,
It’s only 10am,
My sheets are fresh,
And my clothes aren’t.
Then he calls me and tells me to wake up.

The kitchen has miniature milky ways
floating around in the sunlight dripping from the windows,
It smells like dinner from yesterday
And alspice.
My mother is still wearing her maroon bathrobe,
Her hair is a tangled halo framing her face in imperfect curls,
She’s sorting the spices.
She doesn’t understand why I’m unable to keep up with her busy chatter.

It’s a habit to repeat what I must do to stay alive to myself,
As if I’m both child and mother, giving a list of instructions and dragging my feet to follow.
“Brush your teeth,”
“Wash your face,”
“Take a shower,”
“You haven’t eaten yet today,”
“Do laundry,”
“Go to sleep,”
“Talk to your friends,”
“Pay your bills,”
“Go to work,”
“Wake up,”
“Don’t go back to sleep,”
“Drink water,”
“No alcohol before 5pm.”
Keep going.
Somehow, keep going.

My evenings are spent
With my hands tenderly ******* the long neck
Of a beer bottle.
My lips pursed,
Kissing the brim
And savoring every golden drop.
I try to distract myself from the absence of company,
Tell myself I like to be alone.

I go to sleep alone,
I try to fill up
The part of my bed he should be in,
And not think about it.
The cotton covers wrapped around me
Mummifying myself
In mindless sleep.

4:45am alarm,
And it all starts again.

Do you want to be in a relationship?

Yes.
Do you?

Yeah.

“Remember
Remember
The fifth of November...”

Opportunity grew
Like a dandelion in a cracked
Sidewalk.
I had no idea how life would go on,
But ***** dishes continued
Getting washed,
Wind kept blowing,
And cups of tea
Still were made.

It’s only a couple of days shy
Of a year
Since I tried to
Take my own life.

It’s been the best year of my life.

There are still parts of that night
I don’t remember...
I do remember the days following.
How every
Single
Part
If my body
Just ached,
Like nothing I had ever felt before.
And it felt as if
Nothing would ever
Get better,
That I could never be
Better.

“Remember
Remember
The fifth of November,
The gun powder treason
And plot.”

But it did.

The feeling of being in way over my head
Has hardly ever gone away,
Yet things still keep being okay.

The world changed,
And I changed right along side it.

I woke up the morning after,
And I woke up a little more
Each morning following that one.

The decision had been so
Matter of fact...
“I am going to **** myself later tonight.”
I walked down the street through the crunching leaves.
“I have to remember to hug everyone when I say goodbye,
Because I am going to **** myself tonight.”
And the thought had been such a relief.
Imagining letting go,
Was such a relief.

And deciding to take my
Second chance
Was also
So natural,
And obvious.

I built a life
I like.

I made myself
Someone I wanted to be.

I took what I wanted to be an end,
And made it a new beginning.

“I can think of no reason
The gun powder treason
Should ever
Be forgot.”

I remember,
Yes,
I remember,
The fifth of November.

I used to be able
To drag my hand down your back
And count your bones,
Feel every bump in your spine.
I would hold your delicate frame
To protect you from the world
But here we are,
Your shoulders are strong,
From carrying the weight of your own
World,
And you're somehow protecting me.
The strangeness of recovery
is unnatural
When we grow while broken,
Like a tree bent into awkward
shapes
And twisted around it's oppressor.
But my love,
Let's regrow together.

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.

This light used to stand on his desk.

I can still smell the vanilla bean candle
And it's fraternal twin
Fresh linen
On his rusty filing cabinet
With a peeling red "Employee terminated"
Sticker
On it's belly.

He had a plastic mat
On the floor
So his rolling chair
Could go from one desk to another,
It was clear plastic
Tinged yellow
From age.
I liked to walk on it with bare feet,
And feel the contrast of the cool
Against the ragged carpet.

His files were always a mess,
Even when I had sorted them out
The day before.
I'm told things were better
Before he started working from home,
but I can't judge
I don't remember.

Words still ring in my head
Caught somewhere in his handle bar
Moustache,
And the landline
With his uniform way
of answering the phone.
And his uniform way
Of screaming.

As I write
By the light
Of his gold painted desk lamp,
Which always gets too hot
If you leave it on long enough,
I can't help but remember.
He never really left this house.
His boxes of memory inducing belongings
Are still at the top of the stairs,
And the seventies linoleum
Is still under my feet
With the shaggy gold carpet.

Divorce
Didn't mean
My father disappeared,
It meant his images,
And his voice
Would be wandering through
Our household appliances
Waiting for us to turn the corner
And see,
And have to start forgetting
All
Over
Again.

His Face is woven into
My DNA,
And I'm woven into
A string of lost jobs,
And a wife he didn't love.
And I don't like him
Existing in my new life,
But he dances his way
Through each line I write,
Like a last *******
To the daughter who wouldn't listen.

I wonder if you ever forget
The blood that didn't want you.
Because I haven't forgotten yet

Even if I've mentally buried you,
And left your carcass to rot
In the past years,
You still come back
In late night lights.

I'm tangled
In a mess of cables,
Winding around my neck
And my wrists,
Tightening around my chest.

I'm a living power strip
That grew a personality,
Sparks burn my ears
As they encircle my head,
The result of too many plugs.
No one even asks anymore,
They come up behind me,
grab me around the throat,
And sink their plug in.

I supply your power,
When you're drained you
Take up my battery.
I look like some creature
Of the night,
with plugs running up my back,
Like spines.
And I can't breathe
With the chords pressing against
My ribs.

I'm watching myself
Slowly die,
Everyone's need for power,
Is draining me.
I want to rip out
Every
Single
Plug.
But I'm afraid you'll leave with them.

Being loved
In return.

Bare skin in the snow,
She wasn’t prepared to be here.
Something decorative, out of place
In a transitioning landscape,
The darkness hides her footprints,
So she doesn’t have to remember the wrong turns
When they’re hidden in the night.

I don’t know how I ended up lost here,
But I can’t remember not being in this wood.
The air tastes like decaying leaves
And attempted young life,
The barren trees scratched at the sky,
Trying to hook their branches into something beautiful,
Perhaps because they remember that they too
Were once beautiful,
And harsh reality made them envious.

The trees were once breathtaking,
My youthful thoughts and emotions
Were once a kaleidoscope of warm pleasure
And entertainment.
But that’s all I remember of them,
I cannot remember comfort, or the introquet
Design of enjoyment.

It’s been what seems like an eternity now,
This place of cold wandering
Feels like the only life left to live,
It was hard enough to become accustomed to it,
How can she let all she knows be taken from her again?
She built her own small fortress out of branches
To keep her from having to look at the unsettling
Righteousness.

Trees are like emotions and circumstance,
The thicker they are… the more dense,
And you cannot see a way out of where you are,
You cannot possibly know
That there’s another way to go.
It makes it tempting to leave it all behind,
Bathe myself in the tranquility of nothing,
Feel the complete apathy
Wash into my mouth,
Flood my brain,
Swirl my hair around my forehead like a halo
So that I might tell myself
It’s right to not try anymore.
Cloud my vision in murky water I can die in
Instead of harsh branches, I can hide in.
All I am is lost.

She had found a way to feel comfortable In ice,
If you don’t know what it’s like to be warm,
If you don’t… Remember.
Why would you leave certainty for the unknown?
She became at ease in her woodland,
Her lost disposition,
Her unclear decisions.

I stumbled upon death on a path in the wood,
Examined the inky black
Soft and littered with water droplets on the ground.
It was only a piece of what had once been free,
And here it was,
Unresigned to it’s fate.
I turned back.

The wing flew back into her mind,
She knew in that moment
A lit up pathway out of the place of in between
Was a gift
That others lost here
Had fought for.
It was time to move on,
Even if it wasn’t clear where.

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.

Right now,
It feels as if
I've thrown myself
Into a TV of flipping channels,
The static pixels
Are dripping down my back,
And stinging my eyes.
Nothing makes sense anymore.

You've cut people out
Of your life,
Like meticulously crafted
Paper snowflakes,
And I feel myself folding
To be cut next.

My life is vibrating in my scull,
I'm fumbling with the images,
And I don't feel like I'm touching
Anything,
Especially not you.

I'd like to rip a part
Every
Single
Day,
And make a collage,
With the yellows and greys,
The kisses down my neck,
And play all our mean words
On vinyl
As I glue it all together.

I can't reach you,
Not through your brain,
An underachiever like myself,
Can't bust into there,
And I'm scratching
At the glass coating on your heart,
But I don't want to break it.

I've stopped reminding myself
Why I do
What I do,
Why I don't fight you anymore.
I've let myself crash into
A kaleidoscope
Of colors,
And start drowning
A sea of coursing
TV static
Channels.
Because it's easier
Than losing you.

But I hush my thoughts now,
Because it may all be
My crazy anxiety
Ripping up my brain,
Again.

The blankets are waves.

I’m a small sliver
Of a silver fish
Trapped in the current.

I’ve had sunlit days
In my rolling waves,
And I’ve met terrors in the deep,
Been held down,
Unable to gulp water through my mouth
Hungry
For oxygen.

I’ve been chased by monsters,
Befriended golden fish.
I’ve had dreams in its depths.

My bed is an ocean.

A sun soaked,
Dark,
Beautiful,
Polluted ocean.

Breathe in,
Look at the date,
Look at the time,
Count on your fingers
The reasons I'm still here,
And register,
This is the last time,
I'm honest about myself
To you
Ever
Again.

“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.

I think
This is what it is
To have a fairytale inn.

To have a well-tread floor
Familiar with the feet
Of the familiar faces.

To put food into hungry bellies,
Remember names and orders.
Remember bits and pieces of lives
Shared over the sunrise.

To see the backs
Bent from work
And stiff from harsh weather
Straightened with cups of coffee.

To smell the smells
Only a busy kitchen
Can offer you,
Wash dishes with dry,
cracking hands.
To ladle soup, and plop cookies
Into white paper bags.

I think
This is what it is
To have a fairytale inn.

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.

My skin is rough like asphalt,
I'm scratching at it
With my finger nails.
My hair is a mess of knotted
Together chains,
I'm pulling at with my hands.
I want to claw off
This prison of a body.

The inside of my skull
Is a series of shadows,
When you enter the first
It burns,
The second
You can't breath,
As you go on
You'll feel like you're
Swimming through molasses,
And collapsing,
And crying,
And freezing.
I hide in these shadows,
But I'd give them
All up
For you.

I want to burn myself
Into ashes,
Because I'm made of
What you can't love.

My hands are burning
Hot iron,
And you're made of fragile
Ice.

You cut toxic people
Out of your life
Like paper snowflakes,
I knew one day
It would be my turn.
If I cut myself up
Like a paper craft,
Carved out the parts of me
That hurt you,
Would you want me?

Would there be anything left?

How does it feel
To wake up one day
And realize
You're in an abusive relationship,
And know you aren't the victim?
Like dying.
Over and over
And
Over
Again,
Because you hurt them,
And you don't know how
To stop.

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

Every time
I am angry,
Every time
I yell,
I feel like I am failing.

I want to talk to the world,
And have it hear me.
I want to whisper,
And have it matter.

But I don’t matter
Unless I make myself matter.
You can’t hear me
Unless I make you.

You listen when I’m angry,
But every time I am angry
I feel like I’m failing.
Every time I yell,
I feel the crazy
Buried underneath
Surfacing,
And I punish myself
For days.

I want to matter to you,
In my silence,
I want to matter,
When I’m calm.

I want to stop failing.

I want you to hear me.

There's only so long
You can hide behind social
Status,
And which clothes you wore,
And who was smartest.
You end up
In one of many places
When high school finally ends.

Maybe you were smart,
And wore pastel cardigans,
And you ended up in a pristine
University
Accross the country,
That you hate.

Maybe you're working
Full time,
In a little farm store,
Where the men there
Treat you like meat.

Maybe you're part time
Trapped
In a preserved piece
Of old America,
With guns hanging
Far above your head,
And beer signs
Tattooing the side of the building.

You'll be stuck in one
Of many places,
But wherever you are,
You'll have no idea where
You're going,
Because no one
Is telling
You
What to do
Anymore.

"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

“I am hoping
To hang your head

On my wall
In shame-“

I let my body become breathless,
A battered rag doll
Willingly letting
The life
Slowly trickle out of my nose
Drip down my lips
And vanish
Into the musty air.

“I want to wear

Your smile on my sleeve
And break

Your heart like a horse
Or it’s leg.”

I have a small life,
It only stretches a span
Of about five miles.
My bed
To my job.
It used to go on
For hours
And find you
In your darkest moments.
I would travel on grungy
Public transportation
Just for your
Sunshine smile.

“I want to call you thine

To tattoo mercy
Along my knuckles.”

Tattoo mercy
Across my neck,
Plead for the life giving
Powers
Of my own throat
As I feel the oxygen drain from me
In all too familiar
Panic.

“I hope

To have you forgotten
By noon.”

You were my
Most consistent
Safe place.
I wanted to cradle your dreams
And worries in my arms
And restore your love of life.
I love you.
You were the first person
I could look at
And know that my love for you
Could cause a moon landing.
And I never want
To forget that feeling.
I go back to it
In the middle of the night
When I feel incapable
Of doing good.

But you’re trying to break my heart.

And that will not stand.

Dear Him,
I hope someone terrifies you.

I hope you have nightmares
That wake you up
Screaming.

I hope that you won’t be able
To wear clothes
Without thinking twice.

I hope that standing next to men
Gives you
A panic attack.

I hope you’re always
Afraid of seeing
The person from your nightmares
Behind you.

I hope people ask you
What you did to deserve it.

I hope your loved ones
Call you a liar.

I hope you cry when you finally tell your mom
After years of silently living with it.

I hope you blame yourself.

But,
I hope it never
Actually happens to you.

I hope you never
Have to live through
The ****,
The molesting,
The groping...
None of it.

I hope no one ever does to you
What you did to us.

Because no one,
NO
ONE,
deserves that.

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.

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.

I’m an animal
On a leash
Attached to a pole.

I know I’m trapped,
But I see the glimmer
Of something maybe beautiful
And I run for it,
Only to be yanked back,
Coughing and panting.

I’m a beast,
Held back by my own
Sadness,
And I keep forgetting it’s there...
But it’s there.

I don’t envy the task
Set before you,
My love.
You’ve set out to love
An angry woman.

I’m never just angry with you.
I’m angry with the four men
Who’ve come before you.

I’m afraid you’ll leave because I’ve been left.
I’m afraid you’ll hurt my body
Because I’ve been hurt.
I’m afraid you’ll lie to me,
Because I’ve been lied to.

I have the fury
Of a daughter abused,
A high school lover
*****,
A recovering girl
Abandoned,
A runaway
Too drunk
To say no.

When I’m angry with you
Half of the anger
Was already there.

I don’t understand why
You choose to love me like this,
All I know is I’m grateful you do.
For that,
I will try my best
To forgive the men who
Have wronged me before you,
So that I can let go.

I had a dream that you
Swallowed
a hand grenade.

I want to
Sink beneath
The floor boards
Into the world of lost things,
And have tea with fanciful
Hopes
And their finery,
Of golden stitched silk
Purple Table cloths,
And tea sets as silver as
Someone's lost love's
Eyes.

Then I'll dine with a few dreams,
Perhaps I'll run into a couple of mine,
And we'll sit and converse
About old times.
I'll walk the streets
And gaze at miss-match
Barbie shoes,
Lego pieces,
And pocket knives,
Even several pieces of candy,
And earrings
Divorced from their partners.

I'll sit amongst melodies
On the bus
That musicians had fall
From their thoughts,
Playing all at once over the years
They've fallen in sink
With one another.
I do wonder what the great composers
Would say about such a symphony,
At first I did not enjoy it,
But as the bus ride carried on
Toward 'lost change lane'
I began to find them rather pleasing.

Pennies and nickels
Do bore you
After a while,
So I proceeded
To where the missing stories
Gathered.
Each would try and approach you,
Then spew out a bit of a story and
Stop mid sentence,
Such as,
"She ran as fast as she could
From one door to another,
Opening each in turn and slamming them
Closed.
A perplexing face..."
Or
"I wonder if I shall be the villain
Of my own story...
Or if I shall play no part at all,
But I should think I will at..."
And so on.

I strolled on
To lost memories
Which all seemed fuzzy,
So I walked on
And
Let me tell you,
The land of missing teeth
Goes on for eternity,
And miss placed time,
Longer still.

I think I should be content
To stay with the lost things
Forever,
For
Somehow I feel
I belong.

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.

If I could brew
Relief into
His cup of coffee
I would.

All I do
Is make the coffee in the morning,
And ring him up for a dollar fifty,
I’m not really part of his life,
Just his morning routine.

But I’m the one he tried to buy
Yesterday’s paper from,
Because it had his son’s obituary,
And I refused to let him pay.
I wish that wasn’t
All I could do.

I’m sorry Tom.

Run my fingers
Down my own body,
Find the peace of my own company

I’m all alone.

I’m all alone,
But my salt lamp is glowing a pink lowlight,
And my sheets are fresh and soft.

I’ve trained myself
Not to miss anyone too much,
To keep my mind busy
With responsibility
And various fancy,
And to care for my body
With my own soft hand,
To not need a man,
Or a woman,
Not anyone.

I’ve learned how to live
In the lowlight
Of my bedroom
On my own,
To romance myself,
To tuck myself in,
To keep a pillow
Laying beside me
To hide the need
For a second body
While I sleep.

Technology is amazing,
It can make us forget
How sad we are
With artificially induced
*******.
Human touch
Is no longer necessary,
There’s a hundred different ways
To mimic it.

As long as I stay distracted.

As long as I keep going...

I won’t miss him.

I won’t think about
Not feeling like enough,
Or being too much.

I can find peace
Between my own legs.
I can hold myself.

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.

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.

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 I am
vindictive,
Ugly,
and harsh.

I'm a wine
left to turn to vinegar.
Once red,
fine,
and precious,
but bitterness is all that's left.

Tonight the soft skin
of the secret parts of my body
I shared with you are hard,
and covered with a scally armor,
like a cunning snake.

This night,
I am jealous,
and cold.
The scheming
spiteful queen
from the pages of a book.
The horned monster
in the woods.

This morning is
a gentle pale blue,
painted with fire,
to burn the wicked witch.
You rallied the mob,
armed them with pitchforks,
and now,
if it's a villain you want,
it's a villain you shall get.

Because this,
this monster...
Is who I must be.
You screamed into the hearts
of my loved ones
that this is who I am.

After all,
you've never lied before,
have 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.

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.

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.

You weren’t ever supposed to leave,
And I wasn’t ever supposed to want to.

Red curls,
Tied loosely behind your head.
Isn't it strange
That we both know
How we spend the hour
Between three and four
Every Thursday afternoon?

We both wore maroon today,
Contrasting against my short orange strands
And your orange kinked locks.
We both have therapy today.

We waited for our rides together
In the autumn sunshine,
And tried not to make eye contact.
Isn't it strange to see
We both exist outside
Of the
Office?
See us out of our
Safe places
Where the real world
Hurts us.