#flinch
I didn’t trip
I leaned
into the absence of resistance
into the soft collapse
into the moment before the bruise
when gravity feels more like permission
than punishment
I used to brace for everything
the call, the silence
the way someone’s eyes would flicker
when I said too much
I thought strength was in the holding,
the clenching
the refusal to bend
but falling
falling is a kind of knowing
a kind of surrender that doesn’t ask for applause
it’s the body saying
I’m done pretending to be a wall
I remember the first time I let go
not of a person
but of the idea that I had to be okay
it was quiet
no dramatic unraveling
just a slow exhale
that didn’t ask to be caught
there’s power in that.
in the way the floor doesn’t flinch
when you meet it
in the way the air rearranges itself
to make room for your descent
I’ve fallen in love
fallen out of belief
fallen into patterns I swore I’d outgrow.
each time
I learned something about the shape of my own edges
how they soften when I stop resisting
how they cut when I do
falling isn’t failure
it’s movement
it’s the body remembering it doesn’t have to hold everything
it’s the soul whispering
you’re allowed to be held
even by the ground
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 10:38 PM UTC
but I know
just as a cat flinches
when you move to pet it,
so do I.
we both no longer know the difference between
affection and attack.
Aug 6, 2021
Aug 6, 2021 at 2:40 AM UTC
I have looked
Into the face
Of a real-life
Monster
He came into view
When I could
Stare
No longer
I tried to catch him
Flinch,
But when he cringed
I pondered…
I have looked
Into the face
Of a real-life
Monster
.
Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 10:37 AM UTC
i know him too well —
the sweaty palms
the wobbly knees
the trembling voice
he sits with me in therapy
scowls at me, clawing his nails into my arms
growls through gritted teeth:
“quit talking about me.”
and the floor tilts underneath.
i do not flinch/shrink/cower;
i remain firm/secure/composed
because now,
my tongue is an ammunition
i am no longer afraid to exhaust.
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 7:58 AM UTC
i hate that i flinch
you dont understand
laughter fills your eyes
when i jump at everything
i laugh with you because
im trying to hide the fact
that my throat is closing
my heart is racing
shaking hands are all i know
you say its cute
i want to cry
i cant escape the hurt
Dec 20, 2017
Dec 20, 2017 at 8:14 PM UTC
Realisations of common knowledge lurk around us like shadows in the darkness.
Don’t close your eyes. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn a corner too quickly. It’s just the wind. It’s not the same car. It’s too big of a city to find you.
Dear authorities, what are you doing to help?
People from generations before mine have raised their children to be hateful. They have taught them that if they don’t feel like respecting people, they shouldn’t and won’t. I’m sure you’ve guessed this next one, but they’ve let their children get away with a smack here and a smack there to those who don’t obey their every demand – and even to those who do. But I am not the only one. I am not the only unlucky punching bag to experience the hatred of someone much older, more mature, wiser and certainly, not just a kid. Is that it? Is that why you let him go? I was four when it started and fifteen when it ended. To you, that’s a child. Children don’t know much, do they.
Dear authorities, that’s where you’re wrong.
I was four when it started and if you think it stopped at fifteen when my abuser walked out, think again. It never fully stops, not yet. I am nearly twenty years old and I still flinch if someone holds out their hand for a handshake or raises their voice just a notch because they’re a little out of earshot and I needed them to repeat.
Dear authorities, I can’t live because you won’t let me.
Oh, you like Budwiser? Corner Gas, the T.V. show? Do I smell steak? Potatoes baked on the BBQ? You need a plumber? Handyman? Oh look, you’re wearing red. Do you think I appreciate being reminded by the stupidest things, that my abuser is out there? Why is that? Could it possibly be because nobody has bothered giving the man any possible discipline?
Dear authorities, I’m tired of being told, “it’ll be okay, it’s not that bad.”
People after people have continuously told me to go talk to someone. I’ve seen multiple counsellors, doctors, talked to teachers, specialists, friends and family. But what are you doing to help? I moved away from my mother and siblings, in fear. Fear, because every time we moved anywhere the lawyer told us we had to give our address to the abuser. We could not deny him access to us, we could not cut off communication with him. I had to leave, as an attempt to protect myself and hide in a big city with lots of people and hopefully I could blend in.
Dear authorities, you have failed me.
Stop telling me things will be okay, when he is out there and things only seem to matter when a death occurs.
Dear authorities,
Dear authorities…
Dear me, you’re not dead so authorities don’t care.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 4:00 PM UTC
I flinch only a bit
as you tuck me in your heart.
I wake in your dreams
as you dream in my arms.
Into the night, and out
there's nothing but sound
Of hushed voices,
heartbeats racing
and the crickets around.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
You are a ghost
that haunts my coast
lighting up every inch
leaving me with a flinch
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
I’m sorry, I don't mean
to flinch - it's just… his hands
never had such a sweet touch
like yours. And please don't stop singing sweet
nothing's, for I am so used to
'you're nothing's
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 5:14 PM UTC
I want to fix you
I want to watch your eyes light up
I want to know what your laugh sounds like
I want to see the corners of your eyes crinkle up when you smile
I want you to crack the worst jokes just to make people laugh
I want to hold you without you flinching
I want to touch you without you screaming
I want you to sleep without nightmares
I want you to feel comfortable in your own skin
I want to wipe away the marks
I want to heal the scars he left
I want to fix you
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 9:22 PM UTC