She looks in the mirror. What does she see? Isn’t even a reflection of me. So meek, so shy, so passive is she. What she is, that isn’t even me. Who is this stranger beneath the sheets? Who stands there bare staring back at me? I thought I knew. I thought I could see. Every time I start to know.. boom. It isn’t even me. Will I ever know the truth, will I ever see? What the truth is behind “me.” I’m thankful for that girl stripped bare. The one who was raped. Beaten. Left as a piece of meat. That girl.. she.. is me. Even with life has handed me, I hold onto the beauty that only I see. The world and how pretty life can be. Who is that? It is she. She is one and one is me.
“What is this?” Holding up a small purple stud. “Babe, (look of amusement) that is YOUR earring” (Eyebrow raise) The click I do have some of similar color.. it was a pack. I smile, “mmmhmmm” He laughs, “you handed it to me in the middle of the night weeks ago.” I lean over and quickly peck his lips. Then slide the earring in my purse to see if I have a match later.
Wait. Watch. Wait. Wait. Worry. Beat yourself up. Worry more. Wait. Endless cycle for a hyper sensitive person.
Hide your pain and force a soft smile It’s easier to pretend to not feel The way you care leaves gashes in your heart Flip the switch Drop off that ledge that holds you on Force anger that pushes the sick from your belly Be silent Hold your tongue Cower Embrace that once beaten girl once more Then shut down
You want to scream You want to confront You want to stand up, but fear stops you Fear, it controls you
You do and it might not go your way You might lose them Is it worth the risk Are “we” worth the fight You might learn the truth That you in fact care more than they do
They love you But do they ever really? Actions Hours of silence Your not the first thought But sadly you are mine
Mads has freckles and creamy skin She has so much beauty she hides within Long thick brunette hair Her face is most beautiful when it is bare Bluest of eyes will lock you in a trance The random break out moments of dance Blaring music and singing out loud She would make any parent proud She’s smarter than she would ever admit When she puts her mind to it she doesn’t quit She’s fun loving and witty most of the time I love that I get to call her mine
(I love you Madi my sweet baby girl!)
If only.. he could see the view of HIM from me
Gold flecks that mesmerize In hauntingly pale blue eyes Contagious smile can’t help but grin Locks of auburn and scruffy chin Soft touches upon the face Makes my heart quicken pace Way he calls me babe My wobbly legs might just cave Body is a work of art I even giggle when he lets a fart Tantalizing fingers that lock in mine He is my ultimate partner in crime Eyebrow tricks Licking lips Debbie snacks Tickle attacks Spinning me on the dance floor Always leaves me wanting more Football games Talking the same Drive through orders Making sure we have pool game quarters Silly dares Sleeping bare Picking loose hair off my shirt The way he looks at me in a skirt Busting out into song I think about him all day long Super suits Playing games and stealing loot Ninja style Feels like forever in just awhile Our little trip car rides No matter what takes my side Laying face to face Wraps me in his whole embrace Limbs intertwined Can’t believe that he is mine Tufts of hair across his chest Being with him is my only rest How he prays to the lord above Opened my eyes to a new kind of love Walking holding hands Couldn’t ask for a better man Eyes on me when we are out Never fight, never shout Knowing exactly what to say So you have a better day
For seventeen years the missing girl has haunted her. It was a heavy weight she carried, the unfinished. They had never found a body, which always left her unsettled. She felt it was time to re-examine with fresh eyes like she did every year since. She fumbled through the old case files. She sprawled out the photos from the scene in a side by side pattern on the table before her. She grazed over the photos she had long memorized, then gazed at the photograph that was neatly placed in the corner of her desk. It was of her own daughter, who was now the age of the girl who had been missing. Her heart ached. She imagined her daughter being taken in the old beat up blue pickup truck. What the dark stranger said to coerce her inside. Then seen chasing after her, her barefoot down the highway, her white cotton dressed flowing behind her as she desperately tried to break free when the truck had stopped. She wondered what the girl was able to do to make him stop the truck. What that few seconds of freedom felt like as the girl made it to the wood line before she had vanished. She fingered the pictures. There was little evidence to be found. She stared at the picture of the girls footprints in the dust on the side of the road. The picture of the droplets of blood that stained the grass and foliage right outside of the tree line. The tiny tatter of white cotton that was torn from her dress.
She’s always doubting. Always second guessing. The memories of the past haunt her. Her entire life everyone she’s ever known or even loved she was not pretty enough, not skilled enough, smart enough, or if she tried she would fail. Failure loomed above her head. She got it in her mind that even if she tried it wouldn’t turn out right. So why even try at all? When she tried to get close her insecurities would run wild in her mind. She would self sabotage before she could get hurt. If she beat them to the punch.. then they couldn’t see her in that way, but they always did in the end. It was a vicious cycle. I never understood it. The why me’s. She’s positive in energy, witty, smart, and downright nerdy. How it always gets twisted into something she is not. The misunderstanding is me. I am she.
Soft cotton sliding against the skin as it falls to the floor. Nightdress in crumples at her feet. Clip unhinged, loose falling waves of honey wheat cascade against her back. She steps out from the rumpled heap of cloth left on the floor. The ends of hair tickle her middle back as they graze ever so softly from the hint of any movement. She places herself in front of the oversized oval mirror. Skin prickling forming goosebumps across her creamy skin. She almost seems translucent in the moonlight that fills the room. Her fingertips trace her features in the reflection. Soft peach fuzz of baby hairs dance as she brushes her hand against her flushed cheek. She traces the soft edges of her round haunting grey blue eyes, and stops at her crimson stained lips. She stares at her figure. She feels ultimately beautiful in her bareness.
It was the worst kind of day to be lost and alone on a mountain. The wind felt like invisible hands pushing against her body as she tried to trudge forward. She braced herself against the wind, tightening her arms across her chest and leaning slightly forward. Her blonde hair whipped in every direction behind her. She removed the hair tie she always wore on her right wrist and quickly pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. She made her way to higher ground. She took out her cell phone from her jacket pocket, still no service. She had hoped that maybe she could get a signal the higher she climbed. She peered around and still did not recognize where she had wandered off to. She had wanted a weekend to herself. The cabin was supposed to be a time of reflection and hopeful answers, but now her mind was racing trying to remember her steps. She stopped and pulled her backpack from off her shoulders and took out her bottle of water. She sipped the still cool liquid and thought about saving it for later. She knew it was going to be dark soon. Off in the distance she could only make out a large dark blog. She decided to check it out.
