#notokay, All Blogs, Hearing Voices, Photography, Relationships, Trauma

#notokay

This is why I write what I write most times.

When does it ever stop?

Will it ever stop?

Most days I’m fine then something like this happens and it stirs up all the memories, all the shit, all the pain.

The most powerful words ever spoken to me: “He can’t hurt you anymore.”.

No maybe not physically, yet carrying years of memories in my skin can’t be of any help either. Because he wasn’t the only one. There were so many.

Sneaky gropes, words, innuendos and the actual physical assaults over the years as a child and an adult.

I ran away from home at fifteen to get away and found myself experiencing even more assaults because I didn’t know how to protect myself except to step away inside, go to a space where no one could get to.

Floodgates have opened here because of #notokay

Now I need to decide whether to shut them down, dam it up or let it loose and wash over me.

 

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(photo credit Wilowispaperio, 2016)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Hearing Voices, Poetry, Trauma, Uncategorized

Buried

when I was

sacrificed for their pleasure

abandoned, tossed aside

I didn’t know if I mattered

They spoke my name softly

or spit it disdainfully

did I look up when they spoke

challenge them with my eyes

clenched fists

locked knees

I stayed safely silent and felt it

in the tissues of my soul

It’s still buried there

their voices are still

talking and sometimes I can’t escape

and I become like them selfish and uncaring

and it takes every ounce of strength to pull away

to see me

to see my value

to set my feet in the earth

and know I am not buried

to know

I am alive  …  they aren’t 

 

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(photo – wilowispaperio, 2015)

 

 

 

 

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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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