All Blogs, Poetry

This

The precious parts,
deep spaces,
this was never yours.

You couldn’t reach that far.

When sparks erupted
from your eyes and my body
cowered in fear,
as a closet became my best friend,
and trailer steps my protector,
and your voice
and words
embedded themselves
Into my future

my sanctuary was

fluidness
flow
rhythm

a hammock of meshed steel

this

lulled me to safe places
kept me from your raging
became my breath

You couldn’t touch me.

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All Blogs, Life, Photography, Poetry, Trauma

Gone

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(photo credit wilowispaperio, 2015)

 

The last one died yesterday.

No childhood,
now they’re gone.

It’s snowing today.

Smooth unbroken
surfaces cover
ripping,
tearing,
brokenness.

Useless, words.

Need to blow
this into space,
watch it vaporize.

“Go! Get out! Leave!”

Clawing at the thing
that has blocked my breath.

Not pain,
rage.

Fuck you.
Fuck your shit
that became mine.

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