Its' like each time
I dream
I see more and more
of me
of who I am experiencing
and who I was
trapped stuck in the time
see what they don't tell you about
healing
is that
trauma makes you frozen in time
as you heal
you literally remember more of who you are
you have moments of peace and less dissacoiation
you start to feel your body more
in my dreams
I go places
many times I am escaping
trying to be somewhere else
so many times
in real life  
it feels as if I am being choked alive
as if my words don't matter
and I have lost the words to speak
I feel trapped in a time dimension
of space
of my fears
and pains .
I have always felt that I
experience this world differently
like I see things before they happen
like I percieve things differently
like I am an alien human
when I speak with animals
I feel like I belong
when I am sitting in nature
feet on the grass
staring at the brilliant
blue sky
I feel one
with all
I feel like myself
when I stare into cat's eyes
I feel like
I am staring into the universe
for we are all
at its core
love
creation energy
the universe
I know it sounds cheesy
but the more I heal
the more I find
that this is the truth
I used to believe
that people didn't like me
so that is what I was shown
in the world
now I feel my heart
starting to open up again
and I notice how more women
seem  to smile at me
in the streets
for it is all a projection .

I wish I could tell you
when you looked at me with eyes of pity
to not pity me,
because I've been through so much ,
and I don't want pity
I wish I could share with the people in the room,
my stories,
the stories that I leave out
the stories
of mourning
the stories of grieveing
the stories
of how I lift myself up each day
some days its harder
and some days its a bit easier
how I cry almost every day
how much I mourn a family that I never truly had
how much I wish I could go back to all the toxic people
that I left
for I am so lonely and longing for love and connection
but I don't because I value myself
more
how much I dissacociate each day
how much the hunger inside of me
aches and consumes,
trying to be dulled by addictions,
aches to be seen loved touched valued
seen
to be complimented on something  other than just how I look,
to be cuddled,
without being sexualized
how deep my feelings are
how much I want friends
even just one
how much I wish I had the money
to travel
to sit at beautiful restruants,
and to pertend I live a different life
but instead I sit and I do my best
to not overshare or trauma dump
and to laugh off the things that hurt me
the things that have made me so bitter and cynical
instead I am always wishing hoping
and working towards a better life for myself
for I don't know any other way .
How much I yearn to sit with a mother
that I truly love
that is truly kind to me
that I know would do anything for me
how much I yearn for a father
that i know that could support me
that If I would call on the phone and cry to him
that he would do anything to help me
that would hold my hand and keep me safe
how much I long for to have a sister a brother
that  would be my best friend in the world
that would  respect me and care about me
and my pain
but instead I have no one
I am not looking for pity
I am looking for understanding
for a longing
of peace
that I don't have to spend another night crying,
in my bed all alone,
in a foreign country
all alone,
each time I sleep
I remember more trauma
that I forgot
of the men who hurt me in public,
and no one cared
or even asked me If I was okay .
so when people ask me
why do you have such a negetive view on life,
because I have met such horrible people
but still I am trying ,
constantly trying,
today I went out,
spoke with some people,
smiled instead of cried,
and tried to cloak my words with laughter and hopefulness
so they wouldn't see the tears that hide behind my eyes
that cry all the time.

You showed me heaven, but it smelled of sulfur.
You taught me love, but it wasn't the same shade.
You explained my body to me, and how it was reactive, sinful.
You told me my life was not my own. It was a part of a plan. Who's plan?
Oh yeah, "God's plan". The most powerful force ever to exist without being seen. Always to be feared and submitted to and never to be questioned.

How could you expect a child to survive in such a repressed state?
A place with no autonomy, no freedom, no love?

I planted my faithful mustard seed and was surprised when it couldn't grow without warmth, nutrients, and water. Funny how science can explain why this phenomenon happened, but God just remains silent.
Always so silent.

If I am deaf and blind, why has He not chosen me to be healed? What could a child have done to be forsaken?

I.
my lips
sewed together
with perfectly stitched thread
through thin needle holes

the wounds
still wounds
not healed
over the years

the daily torture
of wanting to speak
but not being able
to tell


II.
my hands
shaking
excessively clinging
to the thin rubber band

my voice
trembling
as i try to unwrap
one syllable after another

the aching in the throat
as i try to describe
in as little detail
the things i went through

III.
as soon
as the words
left my mouth
almost as silent
as a short breath

i leave
the room
you sitting there
trying to grasp

what i had just coughed up
and disappeard
directly after
realizing i actually did

IV.
i am nowhere
and everywhere
at once
i am there again

you try to unwrap
the tangled words
the things unsaid
the thoughts not spoken

i slip out of reality
and suddenly
i hear you say
loud and clearly

"It was not your fault. It never was and it never will be."

i started this poem
when i was
nearly 23
i'm 24 now
almost 25
but i still feel
like a child.

19
trying drugs,
loving the man
who would **** me.
and i'd forgive him
take him back into my arms
let him touch me anywhere
just to feel something.
afterward
he smokes
and smokes
and smokes
apologizing
through a haze
of drugs and
shame. he spoke
useless fragile
words and i drank
them up eagerly.
they tasted like
whiskey,
valerian,
and ice.

when i'm 20
i find a therapist.
no more drugs;
still loving him.
i slide a new slate
across the kitchen
table just for him.
but it's cracking
as his fingers
pick it up,
shattering in
place. he moves
from stone
to skin. rips
and tears
until i'm
finally
split
too.

21
still in therapy,
i tell him
it's okay
that he
cheated
because
it was
all
about
the drugs:
not me.
but when i
tell him how
much it hurts
he says
maybe you
should work on that
in therapy.
i lean into
his side
but being
near him
never quite
feels the
same and
i ache for
comforting
sin.

i'm 22 when i find out
that being pressured
into *** after
saying no twice
isn't consensual
and he's not
round anymore
but at night
i hold my breath
terrified that he'll
appear. in my
dreams there
are flash
backs lying
in wait, even
though i've
begged for
some dream
less sleep.

when i'm 23
my third or fourth
therapist
tells me
she's sorry that
i had to go through
it all. and she listens
as i fade away and keeps
listening until i
can feel the earth
at my feet
once more.
she's a good
sort. i'm sad
when she
moves.

24 creeps
upon me
like a scratchy
sweater. i want to
shrug it off of my
shoulders, but it's
too cold. i'm no
longer the things
that happened
to me in that
darkening room,
and at twilight
most nights
i no longer find
myself thinking of
him.

i feel so old.
my bones always
hurt, the cat's food
is so expensive, and
i always have chicken
in the freezer. but
i can't bring myself
to eat. the medications
keep the ache at bay
but i feel it waiting.
at least my cat always
purrs when i feed him.
makes me feel
a little
loved.

my chance to grow
got pushed back a
few years
and i probably grew
anyways, unknowingly
pushing back against
invisible walls waiting
for one to finally give.

i hate that i'm here
trapped in adolescence
i hate that i'm still
writing about him
about what happened
and how much it still
hurts me.

maybe when i'm 25
i'll try to edit
this poem.