Poetry

Letter to my abuser

Posted by on Aug 1, 2012 in inspiration, personal reflection, Poetry, Recovery, Think About It | 0 comments

Letter to my abuser

You can call me stupid. Call me wrong. Call me incapable. Call me names I cannot even repeat. You can spread your lies. Convince others. Build a whole army of puppet followers who all agree with you. You can convince a friend of mine. Turn someone I love against me. You can find the evidence that you need. Point out my flaws. Cast a spotlight on each insecurity. You can get inside my head. You can even break me down. Bring me to my knees, alone on a cold, hard floor, and you might think then, that you’ve won… but tomorrow, I will stand...

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Survivor Poetry- ‘Days When It Feels Like No One’s On Your Side’

Posted by on Sep 11, 2011 in Poetry | 0 comments

Survivor Poetry- ‘Days When It Feels Like No One’s On Your Side’

  Days when it feels like no one’s on your side and you have to hide from your own mind and the twisted often too realistic thoughts that control you and push you and pull you and all that you can do is to pretend to be fine there’s nothing on your mind thank God that most people are blind to anything further past the smiling mask that you’ve crafted until at last it’s mastered and plastered overtop of the broken face takes it’s place and you’re safe from the world outside but too soon you find that the...

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Survivor Poetry: ‘Unnamed Woman’

Posted by on Mar 12, 2011 in Poetry, Rape | 1 comment

Survivor Poetry: ‘Unnamed Woman’

My mother cut out clippings from the newspaper with a pair of silver scissors, gliding them along the marble countertop with a swoosh as I cut my French toast into trapezoids with my fork. I never drank my orange juice. It left a bad taste in my mouth when I brushed my teeth and besides, orange juice did not belong to me anymore. It belonged on the list, ‘no longer innocent,’ and I hardly paid attention to the articles in the newspaper anyway but there was still no convincing him of that. There was no convincing him of most things...

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Survivor Poetry: ‘Cut Out My Heart’

Posted by on Mar 2, 2011 in Poetry | 0 comments

Survivor Poetry: ‘Cut Out My Heart’

I cut out my heart, leave it on the shelf beside my dresser, next to a box of necklaces and a tipped over frame. I don’t feel like bringing it tonight. I cut out my heart, leave it behind and replace the emptiness with a painted smile and pretend I can’t hear it crying- Calling all night in the breaks between the laughter, the moments when words fall away and silence seeps in and I feel the empty hole in the left side of my chest and I think about trying to forget about missing you. I cut out my heart, leave it behind where no one can...

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Survivor Poetry: ‘Love’

Posted by on Feb 21, 2011 in Poetry, Rape, Relationship Violence | 0 comments

Survivor Poetry: ‘Love’

The things he says as etching in my skin the fingers circling my arms around the wrist they sink somehow, without me hearing anything else. I have forgotten this girl, lying on this bed, was at one point me. I have forgotten that I know her at all, that there is a world outside this room, that speaking is to be heard. And I bleed. Silently. Into the sheets. but I know this only after seeing the dark spots left on the bright cloth in the morning when I am alone and I fold them under and over themselves ripping the corners free until they...

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Survivor Poetry: ‘Dear Psycho’

Posted by on Feb 17, 2011 in inspiration, personal reflection, Poetry | 4 comments

Survivor Poetry: ‘Dear Psycho’

I just wanted to let you know: You swore no one would ever love me like you did- I ‘ll make sure they never do. You told me I could not survive on my own, but I thank God I survived my life with you. You told me I was weak, but you only made me stronger in the end. You told me I was stupid, but I’m smarter than I’ve ever been. You covered my mouth, stole away the sound, but I have found a way back to my voice- to speak again out loud. You killed every part of me you could, left nothing but an empty shell. But I brought...

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Survivor Poetry: ‘My Secret World’

Posted by on Feb 1, 2011 in Poetry | 0 comments

Survivor Poetry: ‘My Secret World’

I wonder if everyone lives in their own secret world. thoughts— running through their mind tears— hidden on the outside by a smile and laughter and no one questions no one notices the screaming lonely heartbroken little girl that cries on the inside that lives in the hidden world behind the smiling mask that knows too well, pain and suffering, lonely nights and lost loves, missed chances and the harsh reality that stops and waits for no one. It’s amazing: the things you don’t know about a person, I mean really know. Behind the...

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Writing In The Dark: The Power Of Writing To Help Us Through Trauma

Posted by on Dec 28, 2010 in personal reflection, Poetry | 7 comments

Writing In The Dark: The Power Of Writing To Help Us Through Trauma

“Close the door. Write with no one looking over your shoulder. Don’t try to figure out what other peoplewant to hear from you; figure out what you have to say. It’s the one and only thing you have to offer.” -Barbara Kingsolver When I was sixteen and couldn’t fall asleep at night, I would lie for hours on my lofted bed and try every possible thing I could think of to find a way to rest. I counted backwards from a thousand, listened to relaxation tapes, read the most boring book I owned, but by 2am I would...

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Holy Water

Posted by on Dec 5, 2010 in Poetry | 3 comments

Holy Water

[sitting naked in the shower] If water could be made holy through the silver ball that hangs, pushing it out like rain to bead against my pale face, do you think it could gather up the poison from beneath my skin? could it run in trails down my naked back and suck the demons into each drop and flush them down the drain? could it calm this tension growing in my stomach? Could it flood on through and perform the miracle that I need right now, multiplying a fish to help feed the crowd of angry sinners in my head? Would they quiet down then,...

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Peace

Posted by on Oct 29, 2010 in Poetry | 0 comments

Peace

can i walk away now and leave you there knowing that I will never know if you were watching the back of my head as I did not turn around. Can I stand up, head in the clouds on some sort of platform labeled success and keep my eyes from wandering down to the gutters where I know you lie. Will I stop wondering if you see me now, stop smiling just incase you do, stop holding on to each breath that I take, as if I must measure it first to make sure I’ve packed enough life into each moment now to make up twofold...

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