At this age you should be fine
You have a job and some friends and a lover
don't mention the classes your taking this semester
Its been at least 10 years since it ended
you can't quite remember the details of when
You've been trying to forget for so long
its like forgetting a pop song
but this isnt some cheerful
or happy up beat
this isnt lryics you'd like to repeat
See a little boy thought you were a toy
doctor and marriage his
script to ensure you took the
part in his play
You took the bait and obeyed
as long as you were quiet
You could play with his games
You never knew quite the problem with the
until you grew older and your throat grew
your lungs filled half way permanently hindered
You began to wonder what you had done wrong
If you had taught him the unrepeatable song
the one your tongue tied can't sputter
mixed up words
to a horrible song you remember
on repeat in the back of
A brain so set on forgetting
but the radio only plays your unrepeatable
so many versions you cant possibly
escape any longer
the words bubble up your half filled throat
threatening to explode
the words that won't sing
and maybe it happened and maybe you broke
and maybe the melody won't ever be known
but you're still on surviving
so let it be known:
you aren't what you've been through,
but what you become.
Shaky on my feet, like a child
I was practically a child,
When you found me.
Shaped me, molded me as clay
Your fingerprints, careful, intentional
They made my masterpiece,
My words, my life, my soul
But here I am alone,
Knocky knees, pale cheeks,
Chapped lips and aching ribs
Chat am I to do with this control?
The world turns, still.
My own is shattered.
It lies on the glittering pavement
Where I fall to my knees,
With handfuls of my hair and racketing sobs,
Screaming with the anger, the hurt, the ache
Drawing all the attention I wished I'd drawn before
A cry for help, an outreached, black-veined hand
Though all in my mind,
Because I walk past, on the pavement,
And I walk home.
I blink, my eyes dry.
I've cried every tear I can cry
For you, or really,
What's left is a battered, brittle, brackish soul
And a body in upset.
Never have I carried a violent mind,
Still I take your words, a travesty on my character
Still I receive punishment for acts I failed to commit
Or that are buried so deep in the past
Even the tides have forgotten
But like the shore is broken by the wave, these too have subjected me to errosion
Parts of my whole, broken
And you may not now regret the thoughts you project
Until they replace the air in your opinions and the people in the room
Until you are left alone with them
As they suffocate you.
My life in odd numbers
1- You are breathed into this world by two loving parents who are still far too young, still children themselves. They will make mistakes, It will be okay. Forgive them, because everything they do for the next 17 years is to help you.
3- You are developing faster than most kids, they can already tell. This is good but take this increased intellect humbly, for at some point your brain will be all you have.
5- You smile at complete strangers, keep doing that, everyone deserves your kindness. Continue to love everyone unconditionally, this is one of your best qualities.
7- Tell someone. Everyone experiences trauma, some worse than others, some are affected more than others, some blame themselves, don’t. Do not let your trauma take over your life.
9- Your youngest sibling has just been brought home, You will love her so unconditionally that she will sometimes make you forget how much you hate yourself. Hold her as much as possible, you’ll miss this time when she's older.
11- You are in a new, unfamiliar place, this is a good thing. You will meet fantastic people and have good experiences. Accept it for what it is and be open to change.
13- You must learn to get restful sleep. Your all-nighters cannot be your safety blanket forever, You must sleep to heal, to grow. You must face your night terrors.
15- Look at you, stronger now more than ever. But darling you must learn to love yourself before anyone else can truly love you. You’re only hurting yourself because you believe you are not beautiful but trust me, darling, you are beautiful.
17- Stop worrying so much about what the future holds, be happy in the present day because you never know if you will wake up tomorrow.
Sometimes i think i am incapable of caring about anyone. Like, all that i am, is constructed of guilt and emotions i never wished to be mine in the first place.
There will never be a part of me i would offer up to be handled, because every limb, every organ, every slab of flesh worth holding, has been grabbed too hard and forced into positions that paralyzed me.
When i think of hands, i think of HIS hands and how they took, seized my fatless chest; like if he pulled hard enough and if he pinched to the point of blood, it would resemble the gutting of a fish and I would be pliant in his hold.
Hands don’t feel the same anymore, they don’t look the same. ‘Cause when I think of hands, i think of the print that was left behind and how it dyed parts of me a shade pink i had never before seen. I think of how i couldn’t breathe because of it, too scared to leave my room for days, and when I finally did, i tiptoed around him like i was on thin ice and he was the cold water underneath it.
I slept two hours last night, i’m okay with it. I was too scared to close my eyes, convinced that time would pass by without me in it. Woke up, didn’t brush my hair, just tied it back; ratted up knot things clinging to over-stretched hair ties.
And I can’t tell anymore, if these words are just emotions i’m trying to toss out so i wouldn’t have to feel them anymore, or if they are perhaps freed things - open to the page to understand myself better.
How will I ever know?
It started in the burning starlight
There was nothing in me. I was new and everything was naked.
Memories carry with them the heavy weight of another dimension.
He put the tape over her mouth. And I shouted mom's name. “mom”
My lips go dark. Silver and stuck. My face is small. Only one piece of tape for nose and mouth.
Every window bursts open and the anger creeps in.
Little brown eyes go black. My body falls and the room siezes. Each frame of the shot vibrating, camera lens cracks and breaks.
My eyes are new, in a big brown body, with strong arms and fast feet.
fist for fist. Tape peeled back by revenge. And nothing sleeps right.
Somewhere else there are stars and you don't have to live
Could I be so naive...memories slipping through my fingers like pebbles. Through my tired, fading fingers.
I feel breath. Whispers remind you that you cant be persuaded. Hands remind you that you can't fight back.
His lips making shapes in the dark, undoing buttons on child sized jeans.
Overzealous heroes charge in and their fists build walls of bruises around would be abusers.
Maybe they save others...maybe overzealous heroes burn it all away.
And then no one gets hurt. Because nothing exists when it's ashes and bone.
But who am I if I believe memories can disappear…
If I refuse to accept the way they lurk in the shadows of my skull.
If I refuse to acknowledge them they grow.
Sunswept, copper sky. The moon sits waiting at the edge of the horizon
There he is. Big brown body like nothing id ever hoped.
Moving in and they can't see.
I feel comfort. Longing for that in my own skin.
I feel safe. Longing for that in my self.
Parents stinging child. Words biting the neck.
Poison lingering in veins. In memories.
But it's okay. He says he's been here before. Savior of the nightmares, i know him.
I sit in the backseat alone, waiting for the conversation to end. English to Spanish. My weight. I'm too big for someone so little.
He rubs my head and says it doesn't matter.
The hand is light and rough. Thick. Familiar and strange.
How could I become him...how could I be so incomplete.
It ended with the scorching moonlight