Audio File:  https://soundcloud.com/prttybrdpoetry/i-thought-i-could-swim-until-you-stopped-me-from-drowning

in the middle of my silent days
you ran interference through thoughts whose only purpose
was to run interference through
anything good
or possibly good
that made its way into the rotation
of random pain
keeping me rooted firmly
on the backhand of a smile

snapped in place like the snapping of
my bra in the hands of middle school
boys that found it awkward to walk
when my puberty
kick-started theirs

so, 'SNAP'
there goes my dignity in that
seemingly innocent violation
that no one ever calls by name
where silence gives them permission
to make fun of my already mortifying
body changes that
took me from innocent and invisible
and ****** me into the spotlight so no one would notice
the way they were mortified
with their own reactions to my puberty

I hid behind oversized sweaters and sarcasm
never looked a boy in the eye
stopped talking
so maybe I could
pretend I was invisible and happy
or at least not naked
beneath these people who stole from me
without repercussions...

it lingers...

fast forward
through being made painfully aware that a size 10 was massive compared
to all my size 5 friends
but they were 5'2" not almost 5'8"
they still looked like a board
not a pinup girl from old-timey calendars
but fat is fat wherever it happens to land under thin skin
collecting into silent reservoirs
of self-loathing ammunition...

it lingers...

fast forward
through the first time 'no' held no meaning
shocked into silence and tears
still whispering... please...don't
as words were less weapons and more entrapment
where a body betrays in unwanted reactions
used as proof against my truth
or my perception of truth
or...it must be true because if I
really didn't want it...
but fear and panic can garner the same
physical responses as passion
and it would be too many years before I knew that...

it lingers...

fast forward
to the last time I knew I was beautiful
and the only time I ever let a friend
convince me that going home with these guys was ok
she wanted company and
she was my ride
she never did get lucky

I...
got a cracked sternum where his chin held me down
I kept my voice this time
but the music was so loud
my words remained unheard
no still held no meaning
my wrist bruised in his hand
one hand frantically stretching clothes out of the way
while my free hand struggled frantically
to keep those same clothes at my waist
but...
spandex is unkind on so many levels

somewhere in this fight with his
knees bruising my calves into position
he was thoughtful enough to
somehow, someway
utilize a ******, whose wrapper
never made into the trash
I know this as I followed my friend's
gaze first to the shiny torn package
then twist into what looked like pride
and on the way home
before the bruises turned purple
I told her... and she laughed

it lingers...

she said if that were true
and he stopped to put on a ******
why didn't I escape his hold
but his grip never changed
and when he took those 3 seconds
to rip it open with his teeth...
I was trying to wriggle free and keep my shorts up
and scream over music playing way too loud
I couldn't look at her
or show her the bruises when they appeared
I shouldn't have to prove myself to a friend
I lost more than my dignity
on my 21st birthday...

it lingers...

But at least I knew I didn't deserve it...
that time
but if I wasn't pretty or thin or
anything remotely attractive
maybe it would never happen again
but...

fast forward
to wisdom earned and extra curves
but hating oneself never diminishes
without draining that pool of self-loathing

so, fast forward
present-day and my mom's voice mocks my dreams
she always told me that, when they care,
what I look like doesn't matter
but...

she never mentioned what would happen
if I was the one who didn't care
I learned that when I can't see past
my incessant imperfections
that I'd never believe anyone would notice
when I try to drown myself
in that pool of past truths
that my withdrawal into the
abyss of pain
could possibly ever matter
if it doesn't even matter to me
but...

it lingers...

and every time I hide from the world
masking my pain with silence
stepping out of the way trying not to
burden people with my shame and weakness
I still cannot fathom
if when the people that crawl into my skin
ripping my truth into that pool of lies
can't be bothered noticing my silence
searching for a safe-enough distance
then, how could... why would... anyone else

See,
I've grown accustomed to not mattering
to myself
trained into the seeming safety of silence
where I grate my self-esteem
on the very invisibility I had longed for
so many years ago

I care so much
but it never makes sense
when someone cares enough to notice anything I do,
especially when I'm trapped in my own darkness
but to bring it to my attention is so rare
that I find myself absolutely perplexed

I don't know what it's like to be seen
or... I didn't
but...
you saw me
you saw my distance
and tried to understand my pain
you told me I changed
and answered when I asked you
to tell me how

I am invisible
it's how I cope with heartache and broken trust
disappointment and pain
unfortunately, it's also how I cope
with personal joy and
anything that might resemble pride

I feel, but the invisibility...
it lingers...

so, today...
when in the middle of my silent days
or weeks or who knows how long
I've been drowning in the abyss in slow motion...
today, you ran interference through thoughts
whose only purpose
was to run interference through
anything good
or possibly good
that made its way into the rotation
of random pain
keeping me rooted firmly
on the backhand of a smile

your honesty, reflecting the truth that
I'm likely the only one who
actually doesn't notice my own withdrawal into isolation
was as surprising as that first
snapping of my bra
but I found my voice enough
to apologize for the shame I didn't earn
yet so freely project onto everyone
touched by the perception of invisibility
in which I hide
but you saw me
and proved I am not invisible
you cared enough to notice
and...

it lingers

I found my grandmother the night she died
The room filled with mourning tears
My mother slapped me
because I hadn't cried in two days
At 18 how do you emotionally process a body that once held a life?

Disconnected from my thoughts
I felt neither pain nor love nor loss
How could I say that, without feeling defective
but I couldn't get past that shell with empty eyes
that stared at me until I noticed they weren't smiling

When the body turned to flesh
she was gone and I was lost
in those empty eyes that seemed to
hold a universe of nothing
and if I stared too long I'd disappear in that void
where her light used to shine

**

Too soon, I held my mother's hand as she passed
and watched the life leech out of her skin
The eyes were the last part of her to fade
I stared at her
Willing with all that I am that they would
spark and reignite the fire of who she was
But her skin ran cold the second the light ceased
So cold, yet so very soft.

Two days, and a blended family to hold up
Even with makeup, dressed to the nines
It didn't feel less... wrong
She was beautiful, but she wasn't my mother

I couldn't escape the knowledge
of invisible sutures
As I held her face and fixed her hair
I cursed those television shows I once watched with her
The ones that taught us how things worked
The ones that burned the knowledge of
the sutures into my memory
a memory I couldn't escape

Four days and two shoulders heavy with tears
Too busy with paperwork and wishes
to bleed tears of my own
Thankful for things to do
So I wouldn't get lost in her empty eyes
that stared at me whenever I closed my own

I sit here, grown, wondering how to
emotionally process a body that once held a life?
Praying that she will slap me for not being able to cry
Just so I could feel her

I
am
******

and not in a clawing flesh, body convulsing, banging headboard kind of way

that kind of ****** I can rock the **** out of.

No
I am more the
twisted mess of forced misconception
enlightened by time innocence forgot
forced into a life guided by trust in the lies truth told

Yeah,
it's the end of life as I know it
that's the kind of ****** I am

I knew joy
it was based on trust in what was true

I knew love
it was built on that same foundation

So yes,
I am ******
this mess of **** crumbling to pebbles while blinding me in the dust of my own ignorance
is anything but blissful

and all I hear are the cries of beautiful dying
not that dying is beautiful, though it can be
but of the death of beautiful things
of things I found implicitly lovely
the painful dying of all I believed was good

I am so ****** sideways

protected by others
I can no longer say for certain who I am
or who I believe myself to be

****** hard and unrecognizable
***** into truth by the kindness of others

No more questions because I am ****** that way too
no one wants to hear their old news and ***** laundry

I knew love once
now all I love, I question
reliving my choices in reasons why
trying to piece together my life had I always known
trying to define how I love by my own definitions
and not by what I knew love to be
because that love never existed
only in my ******, shattered memory

So, hey
guess what
I used to love you
now it's tainted with yesterday's **** streaks

I'm still me
But boy
am I ******

trapped beneath a fitted rubber sheet
a lump in the mattress
suffocating on
rancid latex sweat
and yesterday's dried fluids

who were they
the nameless in the dark
this one smelled of popcorn
that on howled in delight

a collage of senseless noise
scented by cats and Ajax
leftovers always go bad

Chuck-will's-widow
in the tree by the window
it must be after midnight

though noon looks the same
in this cage that gives just enough
to torture with possibilities
of breaking free

freedom is overrated
roses stain glass
with the bloodletting
of thorny mishaps

blurred by smeared wounds
ain't life grand
when love ceases to be a goal

how can one find what is
utterly indefinable
if it cannot be decisively named
it cannot be concretely attained

then again, love's fluidity
is its charm
no hard edges
ebbing and flowing
elusive and longing

**** me latex blind
unseen and used
by those who never did mind
a lumpy mattress

Do not look at me
with sad eyes
reflecting a life
you choose to hate

Good intentions backed by bad juju

I see it
behind your dead end job
hidden in your lack of hobbies

There in the emptiness in your mind
is the remnants
of the dream you let atrophy

As it got weak
you got stuck in a place
you thought would be another stepping stone

Do not look at me
with eyes shooting bile
behind a smile that breeds contempt

I refuse to be touched
by your silent hope
of my failure

You cannot **** my dreams
just because
you let yours die

Do not look at me
with eyes that plead for me
to carry you along for my ride

It is mine alone
My dream
cannot feed you

I will not lay it at your feet
to sully it's purity
with the soles of the shoes
you use to walk
through your own crap

Do not look at me
with the hope that my dreams
With give their life for yours

"Smile and the world smiles with you"
only works
when hope springs eternal

There is no hope
in that job that grows
while watching your soul die

So I do not smile
as I walk down the street

I look straight ahead
holding fast
to all that makes me whole

And if I do look at you...

I look at you
with kindness
and I am happy for your success

I look at you
with understanding
for we are all going through
the consequences of our choices

I look at you
with hope that you see me
and remember you once had a dream

I look at you
and wish you love and peace

and maybe

Reflected in my eyes
You can see
the best of who you are

A glimpse into the mirror
reveals fresh creases crossing
over the corners of my mouth—
lines written in immutable ink;
I try not to linger

crumbling upon a bed
scarcely bearing its title,
strewn with lonely sheets;
I bundle them against my chest
using rougher hands than I had left

Sipping the air slowly
to savor the flavor;
rich with fertility
Leaves bursting into fiery hues
reminiscent of fireworks
trembling in the wind

A death knell
over green sceneries;
splotches of sunlight
seeping seamlessly between
newly naked branches,
easing fully unto checkered golden pools–
nature at its most beautiful,
before its most barren

Crazy reared its many heads
Twisted shades of paisley swirls
Kaleidoscope emotionality
Rollercoaster of fear and love
Through the storms of mushroom clouds
An air of peace remained
For that ever-changing scene
Was founded in the purest love
The realest dream come true
No fear of insanity consuming truth
Truth is kaleidoscopes are beautiful
Never boring by design
There is peace in the knowledge
That crazy is exceptional, brilliant
To know a soul, exciting
And through it all
We traverse the universe as one
Riding the wings of insanity
Skiing across the seas
On the backs of narwhals
Simply because they are awesome

To trust,
Let people in,
Relationships.
That's what he said.
That psycologist with
Grey hair
Thinning,
Just like my relationships.
Lonely, hating, loathing myself,
Pain being controlled by addictions,
Shame,
My same shame increases the circles,
Addictions,
Running circles in my head--
Wanting to draw circles with a knife.
STOP THINKING.
My circles of friends growing smaller,
Isolate as the weather becomes cold,
My heart, iced, caged,
No trust, no love.
No one could love me anyway.
Right?
Wrong way thinking through this thick head
Makes it worse.
Wearing through my thin soul,
This pain, pleasure?
No. Run run away from this,
Soles of my shoes thining,
Just like the grey hair--
The psychologist's head.
Trust, love, relationships.
No shame in mistakes.
Let people in?

I always thought I never needed that.