Don’t cry.
I was only 11
I watched my Mother with tears in my eyes as she lay motionless on the bathroom floor
Her gown drenched with blood
And on her stomach, an open wound
A dead baby.
Face it.
Look me in the eyes and tell me why.
Because it sparks a fire in my chest, every time you cry....
Trickling down…
My thigh touching yours, your arm wrapped around my waist.
I clutch my toes, hoping that it will provide some quick relief like the therapist said, but it only hurts me.
I stare into nothingness as your hands trickle down my waist to my butt.
“Is this okay?,” you whisper into my ear.
Your hot breath feels as if it creates water vapor in my ear as I shut my eyes tight and try...
It was nice to get away from my harsh reality with you
I’d been by your side through every emotion, every rant, & every other weekend that you’d pick me up
You’d told me multiple times that I was your only friend, the only person you could vent to
Sometimes, I felt guilty.
Like, why are you dependent on me for your happiness? I’m not even happy with myself, but I’m responsible for making yo...
They would call me fat
My friends would try their best to stick up for me, cussing them out with no hesitation
Leaving me to laugh and point, although I still felt humiliated
I knew that my friends comebacks weren’t enough to heal the wounds of their words
When I would get home from school, I would stand in the mirror, sucking in my stomach and trying to fit into my big sister’s tighter clo...
I shield my eyes from the bright, beaming lights of what seems to be a hospital room
Why am I here? What happened?
I start to panic, calling out for help, searching for a phone that I could use
A nurse and what seems to be a young man rush into the room
The young man stands in the doorway, breathing heavily
Behind him is an older man, dressed in a business suit
He looks like he hadn’t been slee...
Hard to forgive someone who left me confused at such a young age which caused me to feel as if my worth was dependent on my body later on in life. You raped me. It’s taken me a long time to admit it, but there’s no way to sugarcoat the bitter anymore. I’m exhausted. I’ve tried to forgive you time and time again, but the flashbacks have become more and more vivid. How can I forgive without knowing ...
