ETHAN

you are gone.

dead.

you are selfish.

suicide.

you left me.

gone.

you were here

left.

you were my light.

darkness now.

i miss you.

do you miss me?

the sky was the bluest it has ever been this morning
and it puzzled me how the temperature raised from 18 to 30 overnight

i turned in bed, as always you were drooling on your pillow
and i stretched my arms, it was green and purple and yellow

i always knew you were funny, had me laughing since the first day
you always had a punch line,
last night the punch line was my face

your audience was my body, your stage was this bed
your applause were my tears and this is what you said

"i love you but you're too sensitive. stop crying," you said
while your knees were on my shoulders, a pillow over my head

"you hurt me. you fucking hurt me," you said
as you spat on my face, said you wish i was dead

i always knew you were strong, with arms that made me feel safe
last night i discovered what it meant to be raped

warm baths with bubbles
a dimmed room
the smell of nail polish and coffee
my cold skin warmed by my soft blankets and a layer of lotion that smells like winter memories
Amy Winehouse softly playing in the mist of the noiseless room
a book in my hand
a love letter freshly written
alone but not lonely
thinking of you
in nothing but fresh: underwear socks and a over sized shirt still warm from the dryer
This is the only place where my mind is calm

i feel faceless
shut out from this world
out of touch from reality
lost
He hurt me
i can't forgive
i can't forget
i pretend
i try to act like i don't always have him in my mind
the violent act
the rape was traumatic
i think about him everyday
and that is hard to understand
that every single day i replay this event in my mind
Him on top of my body
i was dressed in nothing but shame and disgust
me shutting my eyes praying to live
praying for him to stop or drop dead
screaming No
but he only responded with "stop moving it's almost over"
there are details nobody knows
i am too afraid to tell anyone
i remember everything
the way the sand embedded in my skin
the way his fingers wrapped around my hair to gain control
i froze
and i hate myself for that
He gained control over me
i remember the smell of cigarettes
i remember his God awful voice
and it's been almost three years
and i have nightmares every night
i need space from my trauma
i can't heal
SOMEONE HEAR MY SCREAMS!
someone understand the chaos in my soul

I can see
it bloom
so hard
but worth it

@journeyofdays

She used to live in fairytales,
With her prince charming;
But now she lies there,
Screaming under the whip of her man,
Broken by the burden of a ring,
And traumatised by the call of her only name "wife"...

i dont think you know how much i lost for you.
through halls and streets and night beats,
through wireless connections and the realization
of pencil in a high school year book.

the words won't come.
i see the pictures, hear the conversations;
think of first semester exams and games we played
and the promises you made me break

manipulation;
you and the air and the mattress we shared
witches in the background as i throw up for you again.

its a 6 sided cube
sharp on the edges
versatile and wide

the desire and need to speak
to silence the quiet underneath

its the listening
doing more listening than talking
to distract my mind

its all the love i give
spread amongst all i meet
hoping to shine a light on a soul
even if i can't shine a light on my own

its the need for attention
reassurance that i'm okay and worthy
of this life

its the dreams of a better day
and a new tomorrow
to start my life fresh
shining and positive

but

its the nightmares
recurring and graphic

its the grinding of teeth
my aching jaw in the morning

its all the emotional trauma i carry
scarred into the folds of my brain
bad habits embedded into my mind
that i'm not sure i can break

its the
fighting fighting fighting
crying screaming
suicide

6 sides cut into endless pieces
always switching rotating moving

happy
sad
angry

exhausting to breathe
exhausting to think

...do not tell me
what I think or what my intentions are
you do not know me at all
what you see is true
but it isn’t all of me
there is so much still hidden
some things thought lost
as if passage of time removes their relevance
secrets and events held deep
in depths welded into caverns
there are sconces on the walls
marking the tombs for the living
you walk over them and past them
unknowing and uncaring with your presumptions
clipping your heels and stubbing your toe
on the rivets that keep them tethered.
preaching your rants
spin them wildly into screams
to keep you covered
in a fury of anger and hate
while I keep mine encased
held deep in a cold temple
with the pressure it might create diamonds

@journeyofdays

The first time it happened I was three
I knew not what it meant then
My uncle, an Adam, balls bare
Crouched under the shower
Exploring parts of me
I knew not yet how to name

I was only three so
He thought my memory'd fade
And his sins would be expunged
And I never told mom
We were on vacation, you see?
And anyway, how could I?

But I did tell you, my dear ex-wife.

I later tried it
with the all too eager boy next door
Behind the church
But I wasn't sure if I liked it then

The second time it happened I was six
And she was my cousin
And in bathing away the day's play
Her fingers "slipped" deep in that place
And it made me laugh 'cause it tickled
So she did it again
'Till mom knocked and said it was time for bed

I never told anyone
And she thinks my memory gone
But later that night, she showed me hers
And said it'd tickle her too if I touched
So I did

I never even told you, my dear ex-wife
I never touched a woman like that again
'Till my teens

But in fourth grade Damian asked for a
hand-job under our shared desk
While Mrs. C.  spoke of the nation's heroes
And the one that wrapped the flag
around  his body as he was shot down
off the Chapultepec Castle's tower
Sixteen year-olds protecting the military school  from The Americans
Or was it the French?

I never told anyone about this either
I never even told you, my dear ex-wife

I don't know if any of this means anything.
But I know that sometimes I get flashbacks
When a sex scene comes on screen
Or when friends or family kiss and
are affectionate with their partners
And I get a little nauseous
and I feel uncomfortable

Sometimes I freeze when I'm touched
And everyone laughs
and they say I'm a "bad huger"
But I don't know how to explain being touched feels wrong and I feel filthy and my skin burns

But how can I say that?
When at the same time I'm overtly sexual
And everyone says I'm just a pig
And I do believe it
But I also freeze when the touch is not consensual
And I can't muster the strength to defend myself

How do I explain that my body feels dirty?
How do I explain that I can't look at my
body in a mirror?
And that I'm barely beginning to be able
to even look at my facial reflection without shame.

But you left before I was ready to tell you any of these things,
my dear ex-wife.
You left before I could tell you
that you made me feel safe enough to want to do so.

The third time it happened I was drunk
And I was passed out and out of my senses
The third time it happened was only  
a few months ago and I had just turned thirty-two
The third time it happened my friends
Made me feel like I had no right to feel abused
Because I was drunk and I am a "whore"
And "that was your decision."

The third time it happened, my dear ex-wife
I realized I was ready to tell you everything
Because you always made me feel safe and I need to feel safe
But you're not here
And I don't know what this means anymore
And I don't feel safe
And I feel paranoid
And I feel judged
And I really don't know what this means,
But I wish you were here.