Poem #240

And so we decide it’s better to be alone
than to be hurt.
After years of experience we believe
it’s best to kill what makes us human
than to let it kill us.
So we fight during the day and surrender
to regret during the night because fear
never filled empty spaces, it just made
them larger.

#savingme – Poem #240

I am doing this old school, putting pen to paper.
Like 13 years ago when I started writing this mess down,
learned that violence can inspire creativity.

On the floor, the bed dragged to the door,
mommy told me not to make much noise because dad
was convinced he was alone.

In case he heard me, got upset and kicked the door down
there was only one way, jump out of the window
to the grass that, I swear, was never the greener.

I found a gift in your violence, beauty in the bruises
that covered my mother’s body every time you saw the
bottom of the bottle.

I found words beneath the insults to write down my anger,
to make sure it doesn’t boil inside of me turning me into the
drunk, selfish monster you came to be.

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#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to savingmestory@gmail.com and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

Poem #239

Can’t you see it’s still me behind this mask.
I thought you would see through this version of me.
Just believe there are good intentions behind this.
I know that the road to hell is paved with good intentions
but I am paving my road back to me. Can’t you hear
these tired steps that I am taking?

Poem #236

The emptiness of this room whispers
to me with the same pain you had in your voice:
“Sometimes love just isn’t enough”

With those words you made the poetess
in me want to set on fire all of the poems she wrote.
If not love, then what?