i have always struggled with physical touch

perhaps its because
i received too much
all at once
and never quite understood
what i was being given

perhaps its a million other reasons
but it is too difficult
to understand the past
so for now I'm stuck with
my present longing
for some kind of touch
that doesn't make my skin crawl

making choices
           is not for the
                 faint of heart                
                               any step                ⍜
                           into the future        ☇≣⤷
                                             is a step 〳〵
                                                   into the
                                                             ­                 
                                               ­                           
                                     ­                                    dark

trauma is not
a beautiful thing
i'm not a bird
with broken wings
not a sick puppy
for you to save
not a white daisy
growing over a grave
i'm rotten inside
down to my core
grabbing handfuls
of guts and gore
pushing it back
under my skin
so you will not see
the condition i'm in

i was little
only three
hiding behind
the cedar tree
she was trying
to beat me
a little child
of only three

that tree is gone
we cut it down
bugs ate it
from root to crown
playing under it
in a princess gown
the memories
can now be found

and every single
time it rains
mushrooms sprout
from its old veins
i wonder if she
still feels pain?
i wonder if
we feel the same?

You
Were the human embodiment
Of all my fears:
The manifestation
Of all my monsters.
Yet,
If you came knocking
I’d open the closet-
Pull up the bedcovers-
Turn back to the dark mirror-
And invite you back in.