when do we forget?
it isn’t two years from the time
someone took your breath away and
made you feel like something truly special,
only to vanish like smoke
and come creeping back
just when you thought it was gone.

it isn’t three years from the time
you woke up and realized that none of your real friends
seemed to have a problem with the man you were dating;
too old, too childish, too great a mistake
to ever forget.
quiet nights waiting for him to come home
from the bar after lessons because you aren’t
yet old enough to go with.
perhaps you were old enough to know better,
but no one ever told you it was time
to learn what a relationship really looks like.

it isn’t four years from the time
you felt like you were following a script,
doing what you thought was right or
expected of you, because you never knew
any better.
he was the first to ask,
and it’s okay that you were confused,
but that doesn’t mean you get to forget.

it isn’t five years from the time
before you understood the things
no one had ever explained to you,
that flirting doesn’t always mean infatuation,
that age does, in fact, mean something.
your first kiss had you feeling like you were
floating off the ground,
and you turned it into poetry
so you would never forget.

it isn’t six years from the time
you felt like someone wanted you
for the first time ever,
looked at you, liked you, appreciated you.
no one had explained that some men
do what they do to any woman who happens by,
that you aren’t special, just in the wrong place
at the right time
to be somebody else’s prey.

we never get to forget these things.
even when it feels like it’s gone,
when you finally get to breathe again,
to feel the touch of the man you love without
wanting to freeze up or suddenly
cross the room.
but eventually, it comes back.
in a name, in a place,
in a person who looks a little too much
like the ones who did this.
they always make sure we’ll never forget.

Start with the dirt.
And the blood.
And the stuff that’s caked beneath your fingernails.

Scrub, and rinse,
and scrub again,
because that’s all that’s coming off.

You’ll never be able to wash away those
fingerprints etched into your skin,
an ectoplasmic stain that no one else can see.

Let the bathroom fill with steam,
let your skin grow red beneath the scalding water,
let it show you the other things you can still feel.

Because five years from now,
maybe you catch a glimpse in the mirror,
that person you used to be looking back at you.

You can scrub, and rise,
and scrub again,
but you’ll never wash away
the things you wish you’d never felt.

Your hands on me
They're so sweet and
You tread so lightly
Moving along my thighs
Rubbing patterns into my soft skin
At the apex I close my eyes
Bathing in the warmth of your touch
In that moment I can breathe
I'm with you and I'm happy
But I have memories like bad dreams
Showing up so unexpectedly
And suddenly
Your hands turn to his
It's no longer your body against me
Pleasure turned fear
Burning into me like electricity
My brain goes offline
It fills with music instead
Trying to cover up these demons
But my body cannot forget
All of my muscles are frozen in time
It's 2014 again
Why can't I feel your hands on mine?
Feel your arms wrapped around me?
My lips find yours
I want our spark back
I'm trying so hard
Just to come back
I want this
I want you
But my body doesn't know
It doesn't realize you are safety
That we stopped right away
Because you can see me
That you care if I'm there
And give me space to breathe
As this trauma leaves me bare
You stay with me
You tell me I'm ok
And that we don't have to do anything
I'm broken and I'm grateful
Terrified and wondering
And even though it takes awhile
For me to find myself again
When I'm ready you still kiss me
And it shows that you understand

Her fairest words not an apology,
Words that bother me, eating her up,
'All that your are is swallowing me; doubting me,
feeling cowardly:' But not what you want to be:
For daily days so hourly, judging men horizontally,
screaming in your head 'acknowledge me,'
'And just apologise to me':

Back when the world was loving,
You for your chest, interests in *******;
They're spending pays on and invest,
Leaving children eggs on your nest:
None of them did impress, but only did undress:
Leaving your hair in a mess, and moving onto the next:
With their sins stealing your bless: To Pastors,
how do you confess? The gave you more,
but made you feel like less:

Child how do you love;
As you're sick of what some of
Them speak of when, they say it's young love?
Taking your portion, and happiest emotions,
Bare on your flesh like erosion,
Rubbing against you like- Their body lotion:

I do try to love you for you,
But can't relate to what you've been through:
They've stuck their hurts on you-
Like glue, more than one time or two:
They used you, abused you, tossed you,
away, straight after they ******* you: Threw you,
Found their release through you: Lining up,
To view you in a-
Queue, fitting their sizes in a small shoe:

I now understand why,
You are who you are in the first verse.
Giving them your worst, from those who
stole your worth: Hands in a bag-
Stealing inside your pursue. So hard for you
To converse, hoping to be anyone else in the entire universe:
I see how it hurts, and how quick you curse:
Told to move forward; trying to have,
All your pains and struggles go in reverse:
They gave you their love by force,
And all of the times it did leave a hurt:
Without remorse, making you their main course.

So as I write this verse,
With tears through the pain of your teen years:
Those darkest moments and your fears. All of those,
Left you after a night shift; shifting their gears:
But I'll try my best dearest sister,
To be right here. When those demons-
Try creeping back in: When the lights are so dim:
But I don't know where you've been,  
But I'll share all of your hurts like a twin.

Raise your chin;
Clear you're skin,
And help you fix what's broken from within.

Pen this verse-
For all of them to know;
That you don't have to face the hurt alone:
Don't feel like you're all on your own,
You could be whole, even if the process is slow:
But I'll help piece back together your shattered Soul.

Malice ripples
lying low, under
penetrating nightlife strobe.

Repercussions?
None to show.

Limp bodies
'getting loose'
In truth,
injected with poison;
a slow-acting noose.

Repulsive actions of the
vile & depraved
****
endorsed at raves.

Dear David,
First of all, I would like to start this letter with a big *******!
How dare you come into my home and take advantage of me.
How dare you get into my bed and touch me.
How dare you!?!
Oh, you were drunk?
No worries, that totally makes it okay.
I was probably dreaming like the time my best friends brother decided to hop into my bed when I was 11.

I hate you!
I hate how I can’t be mad at Terry for wanting to have a relationship with you because you’re his brother.
I hate how I can’t speak up about what you did because it most certainly will ruin your life.

But I want you to know, you will never be apart of my life again.
You will not be apart of mine and Terry’s life,
And best believe you will not be an uncle to our little girl.

I know all you did was touch my skin and kiss my lips,
But what if I wasn’t strong enough to push you off me, to tell you no?

I hate what you did.
I hate that I can never be beautiful again,
You took that piece with you.
You greedy, ******, *****!
How many other girls have you done this to?
Are still doing this to?
And aren’t able to tell you no…

I just hate how I can’t move on…
How can you?

I am a crumpled sheet of paper in the hands of my predators
Their hands snaked around me, squeezing the life from my body, leaving me to collapse into their want
Too young to realize, too weak to fight back
………
                                                He choose the game he wanted to play
                                                and I became a dice he could roll around
                                                in the palm of his hands
                                                         But this body is my temple, you lost                                               my game and there will never be round two
………
My own thoughts strangled me as my body refused to listen to my brain
To touch my skin felt like fire burning through my veins, fire that ignited my predator
Hopelessly sinking into the bed that became an ocean, water drowning me and continuously pulling me further down
………
                                                        ­ She destroyed my innocence where
                                                       “playing house” meant I played victim
                                                         and she played the predator
                                                        ­ But this body is my temple and you
                                                         did not receive an invite to my
                                                         house p­arty
………
They had the power to take my dignity into the palm of theirs hands and crumble it up
We are told when we crumble up a sheet of paper, you can never make it the way it was before
………
                                                      ­    He threw me over his shoulder like a
                                                   rag doll and brought me to the place that
                                     was once “my room”and is now “my nightmare”
                                  But this body is my temple and not for you to play
                                                 with like a doll you received on a holiday
………
Words disintegrating from my lips with the ashes of consent and destroying my trust for any human to touch my skin
Circling the drain of intimacy
………
                                                    ­ They strapped me down and taught me
                                                        that crying meant I was “asking for it”
                                                             But this body is my temple and
                                                             my ­words are louder than your lies
………
I wear the damage on my heart
My body used against me more than the number of fingers on my hand
………
                                                       But this body is my temple and when I
                                                                ­           broke free of your *******,
                                                        ­                 my temple grew taller than
                                                                ­          your hands could touch me
………
I am a crumpled sheet of paper escaping the hands of my predator