In my mind there's a version of you
One who is happy
And never turned to drinking
As a way to push back the darkness
A version that told me he loved me
And really meant it
Who knew Jesus like I do
And who made me laugh
Who made my skin blush
Instead of crawl
And who chose to be better
And care for himself

And there's another you
Who never said anything
The you who is still my companion
Who makes stupid faces at me
And takes me out for dinner with our friends
An alternate you
Who I never told what broke me
Because when I did,
It broke us, too.

There's a third version of you
The one who hurt me
Used my past against me
The one who told me I was beautiful
And different from the rest
The one who two months later told me to never speak to him again
And gave no reason why
This third version of you is the one
Who lives down the road
I think you do.
Its been almost 3 years and I havent heard a thing
The third version of you is the one who left
And the one that I got

I don't know whether to be angry at you
Or to miss you
But I know that it hurts that you're gone
I'm not sure whether upon seeing you again
I would slap you
Or hug you
But I know that more than almost anything
I want to tell you that leaving didn't make me stop worrying about you
It made me worry more.
And more than that
I want to tell you to come back.

And oh how I wish that one of the you's in my head
/Heart/
Would come around
Because the second one is my friend
And the first
Is everything I ever wanted.

He twisted me
I don't know anymore
The truth is
I don't know anymore
What is safe
Or
What is a dangerous
I can't tell
Which people
Or things
Are right
Are safe
Are true
And what is wrong
And dangerous
And a lie
Places
Wandering hands
Unwelcome
Untoward
Untrue
Unloving
All of them
A mind game
A lie
Telling me
"It's okay"
It was never okay
And they ask me what's wrong
And am I alright
And they say how much I've changed
And "You didn't used to be this way"
But the truth is
That
I'm not here anymore
she isn't here anymore.
Fifteen years later
I'm not the little girl
You took advantage of
She's gone
She's not coming back
She died fifteen years ago
In that dim bedroom
Laying
Helpless
Beneath a heavier
Weight
And now
What has become my commonplace
Is not common in this place
Deep inside me
Sometimes
I think she's still in there
That little girl
11 years old
Whispering again and again
Through the tears
"He said it was okay
He said it was okay
He said it was okay"

Advice on falling in love with an assault survivor
The first time you look at them
They will do one of two things.
They will either not look you in the eye
Out of fear that your passion will burn them
After all,
The last time another's eye stared through their paper skin
They caught on fire.
Or this person may stare straight back into your pupil
As though they are staring death straight in the face
There is no in between with a survivor
They will either move too fast or not at all
But their trust is the petal of a daisy in the desert
Withered and delicate as you touch them for the first time
You cannot expect warmth from something so broken
For survivors train themselves to ignore the ghost in their heads
But that demon will always show up
And when they finally let you undress them
You undress their monster as well
As you remove articles of clothing
Their body begins to freeze over
And the spirit they could once hide and stow away
Is now at the forefront of everything.
They train themselves to have *** with the lights off
Because should a fleck of brightness reveal an eye
A nose
A mouth
The face of their abuser will fill in the rest
They do not want you to see their body
For the scars leave train tracks of the places they've been
Crawling in fields of thorns
Wrapping themselves in knives
Swallowing perceived sanity in the form of a pill
They will not always be okay
Because in their mind they are constantly at war
With an enemy ship that retreated long ago.
To everyone around them, they are a martyr
They have won the battle
But in their mind
They are a fallen soldier
Who can't stop hearing their own gunshots fire
Into the chest of their opponent.
Falling in love with an assault survivor
Is agreeing to watch parts of them
Go up in flames
Over and over again
And picking up the ashes they leave behind.