In the bubble were hopes and dreams.
Hopscotch, handstands, Mr Whippy Ice Creams.
The freedom of playing outside on the street.
Summer holidays, bike rides and pick’n’mix sweets.
Years swept past and the bubble was still there.
Now 13 more interested in clothes and my hair.
Music and dancing; cigarettes and *****.
Never thinking ahead, just running wild and loose.
BURST went the bubble is his sly hands.
A past and present stolen; a future with changed plans.
Colour and glitter fell in horizontal lines.
Out went my sparkle, off went my shine.
Much time passed as I continued to grow.
Teens and twenties a blur but in my thirties I slowed.
I remembered the bubble; I remembered his hand.
The memory knocked me down like a wave on the sand.
With love I healed and began to blow, a fresh new bubble for my mended soul.
Filled with hope and forgiveness; love and light.
Books, food, nature; spiritually taking flight.
Yet I winced when I saw him once again.
Feeling sick to my stomach, almost feint.
He plagued my thoughts and dreams for a while after.
But truth broke me free as negativity shattered.
He took a part of me forever and that I can’t forgive.
But I have to move on in order to live.
My innocence was snatched but my future is mine.
I will live it to it’s fullest; forever I will shine.
A very personal poem that I had to write in order to cleanse myself from it. I was ***** when I was 13 & only remembered it in my 30’s. It’s taken a lot of healing and love to mend myself but I’ve finally done it. I’m proud to share this in the hope that more & more people report these assaults and that they can find a silver lining of their own. It needn’t be carried around like I did for what should have been my best years.
