an
apology
has
never
known
the walls
of your
mouth.
will i have to spend the afterlife finding ways to hide from you?
for her, healing means telling people who she really is, even if she knows that they won't understand or accept her.
--good thing their approval isn't as important as her own.
give me lavender. give me valerian. give me warmed milk. give me the sound of every raindrop to ever slide down the side of the earth. yes, i will still have trouble falling asleep. because of you, i've never been able to see a bed as a place of rest--only unrest. even when my bones & my eyelids beg for sweet mercy, the second my head hits my pillow, something in the back of my mind will always be trying to remind me of those moments when i learned that sex & violence are not the same thing.
i don't write what i write to hurt you
i write what i write to heal me
the only think i can do is learn to live with the idea that i will never be cured. i will always be in the process of healing.
people may say she's different now, but all that reveals to her is that they never really knew her in the first place.
--blindfolds off
i
tucked
my story
into
the folds
of silence
in
order
to put
other
people
at ease.
no more.
no, she will not be silent about what happened to her--
the abuse, the neglect, of the lifelong trauma.
she's proud to be breaking all of these generational curses.
if you don't like it, then you can slip out through the back door.
be stronger than the villains. be every storybook heroine come to life.
when
you've walked
on daggers
your
entire life,
you don't
even know
how to trust
the softness of
sand
between
your toes.