today marks three years from the day i died on the floor outside my highschool gym. the day my innocence slipped out of my mouth, as your hands slipped around my neck. three years from the day i learned what it felt like to fear men and feel dirty in your own skin. three years from the day i realized god wasn't real and no one was coming to save me.
today marks three years of tears. three years of desolation. three years of wondering why i wasn't strong enough to say no. strong enough to push him off me. why crying and beginning him to stop wasn't enough.
three years where i spent too much time dreaming in nightmare, asleep for fear of human connection. three years of poetry. three years of therapy. three years of trying to still my mind and finally forget. three years of letting it affect all my relationships and my self perception.
i've never been a violent person, but for three years i've dreamed about making him feel small. hurting him in the way he hurt me. but no amount of physical pain would rectify the situation, no amount of jail time, or social outcasting would make me feel safe again.
it's been three years and he knows my address in miami, my license plate number, all my old social media, and what it feels like to be inside me. he knows that his hands fit perfectly around my neck. he knows how his dick feels pressed against my back, my face, my mouth. he knows what it feels like to have power over me. to watch me sleep, to touch me while unconscious.
october fifth marks the three years of the worst day of my life and the beginning of the month he ran rampant with my life.
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sometimes rain, sometimes rainbow - poetry collection
Poetrya collection of poems, written in real time about the good, the bad, and the ugly that comes with healing. PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS this poetry collection includes themes and descriptions of: sexual violence/assault/harassment PTSD halluci...
