Tag: IFS

• Could’ve been somebody

  I could’ve been somebody who didn’t flinch or wince
  at every sound out of place.
  Living life in a dream state,
  known to dissociate, disconnect, and escape
  nightmarish recollections of all that I hate

  in me – what no one wants to me to surface;
  find a prettier purpose,
  quietly close the curtain
  on all that was taken –
  like it’s easy to move on,
  sing a happier song.

  If my body could produce
  a sound, lighter, or induce
  sweet melodies from my lips,
  I swear all of me I would give
  to be cleaner and easy
  to digest than all my queasy

  memories and pleas turned into rhymes.
  Believe me, I try all the time
  to open my mouth
  and let out things that won’t make you frown,
  or sob in a puddle; surprised
  beauty like mine is so deprived

  of days where the sun fully shines,
  where what’s lost is behind –
  no more echoes of my screams,
  no more bleeding from the shards of my broken dreams.
  But it’s because I’m so broken
  you love me now like a token;
  so long as I leave unspoken
  how I came to be
  so jumpy and distrusting.
  Should’ve died from the thrusting
  and thrashing against
  a reality too dense
  to produce anything other than
  the broken beauty I command.

  I could’ve been somebody who doesn’t fawn or freeze
  at reminders of his insatiable greed –
  but I’m not and I’m dreadfully tired
  of being asked to put out the fire
  in my soul, burned to ashes
  from all the masses
  of complicit onlookers, now
  telling me to calm down
  every time I flinch or wince or hold my breath;
  like I’m scared to death –
  because I was and I am
  and I’m simply doing the best I can.

  September 18, 2025

  flashbacks, grief, IFS, life, love, mental-health, poetry, ptsd, recovery, sexual assault, trauma, writing

  ---

• Sending love from paradise lost

  Sometimes it takes many words
  to get to the point.
  Let that be okay in your body.
  Because you are perfect
  in your brokenness and survival.
  My hope is that one day
  your body feels less like a tomb
  and more like paradise lost.
  I promise you’re more found
  than you know.

  September 16, 2025

  chronic pain, csa, flashbacks, IFS, life, love, mental-health, pain, poetry, ptsd, recovery, survivor, trauma, writing

  ---

• To the ones who should also be on trial

  When I can’t figure out what to say
  I try to put pen to paper anyway.
  Because the truth of the matter is that
  my silence only protects the man I used to call dad.

  No, these days we’re too grown to keep quiet
  memorials buried inside me like a riot
  that failed to ever organize and rise
  up out of the tormenting lies;

  the ones he told me and so did my mother.
  Family loyalty above all else and others!
  It’s what keeps the immigrant family afloat;
  we’re taught to never speak up or rock the boat.

  And on some level I get it to this day –
  I’ll never know what it’s like to runaway
  from a terrorist government right into familial obligation
  to make something more of yourself than impoverished stagnation.

  That’s the story of the women who birthed me;
  the one of the man who raped me is also key
  because I’ll never know what it’s like to live under
  my grandfather whose anger boomed like thunder.

  But I do know what it’s like to survive
  violent attacks from the ones tasked at keeping me alive
  and being told to hold dear all the terror.
  Being youngest, made me especially the bearer

  of dark secrets turned pretty by all my compliance.
  You see, my sister chose young the path of defiance,
  but that only made her a perfect target.
  We were fucked, no matter how you sliced it.

  I was too pretty, too docile and put together
  for teachers, doctors, caretakers to bother
  ever wondering if there was truth in my timid confessions.
  They each chose instead to leave the learning of hard lessons

  to the classroom of the violent home I could never escape –
  the place where I learned that there’s no love like rape.
  You see, it’s much easier when you hold all power
  as an adult, hoard it up and completely devour

  innocent brown bodies of forgotten children,
  than step in and risk your neck to protect them.
  That’s what they did to my little brown body
  when they said bruises and fear weren’t inflicted by daddy.

  It’s such a chilling thing to think
  that you could be so close, so just on the brink
  of being saved from the stuff of pure nightmare,
  escaping what most would never dare

  to imagine outliving, outlasting.
  The most dreadful casting,
  my family of origin, darker than I’ll ever bring to light
  because nobody in this room could survive such a fright.

  But I did, and I’m fully enraged
  by the ones who will leave here unfazed
  thinking my story is unlike that of kids today-
  after all, only demons could go so astray!

  But I’m here to call out your denial,
  because the ones who should also be on trial
  are not just the ones who birthed and raised me, their daughter,
  but the ones who to help me just couldn’t be bothered.

  Take it from me, the pedophiles who could do
  such unspeakable acts to my children and yours, too,
  are the friends, family, acquaintances you collectively refuse
  to without question destroy and remove.

  Instead, you place greater value
  on keeping face and keeping dark what is true.
  You remember the needs of the raper
  before you ever believe children who cry danger!

  I cried a lot; I’ll be honest I knew from an early age
  I’d die alone in that family, take our secrets to the grave.
  So, I’m not sure now what’s more shocking –
  that I’m alive or that I’m even up here talking.

  Because the truth is for most of us called survivor,
  we often live on in the shadows of our traitors.
  If we’re lucky enough to live past
  the rape and bloody wounding we learned to outlast

  we learn also that our bodies and words
  are not worth protecting or believing anymore.
  So, we stay silent; sometimes even caring for
  the ones who gave us our unwanted violent lore.

  So, as unbelievable as it is,
  I’m speaking now to tear down the myth
  that terrors you’d rather not confront
  if I may be so blunt
  cause scars for which you are also at fault
  there’s many ways to indirectly perpetrate assault.

  Because what happens when your refuse to say rape,
  when you walk away from this stage in utter dismay
  that a bitch so foul mouthed and enraged
  would dare to so directly put on display

  your apathy, your inability to stand up,
  to call abuse and violence in the name of love
  exactly what it really is: no more
  than the stuff of the rapists the came before

  you, and me, and our grandparents;
  the ones who gave us our legacies of violence,
  the ones we pass on if we’re unwilling to look
  into our own dirty mirrors and ask what took

  us so long to see
  that rapers like my father are no different than you and me
  if we don’t unlearn that having power
  is no excuse for causing those in our care to in fear cower.

  That’s right, if you walk around using intimidation,
  leave your entitlement left unchecked cause of your station,
  yours are the hands that help stow and carry
  a darkness into the future we should bury.

  And if you’re one the few left still sitting here
  refusing accountability, let me make it real clear,
  the violence you let out lives on like an echo
  every time you tell a hurting victim to just let it go.

  Maybe what we should start offering in its stead
  are questions that with curiosity are led,
  so that we learn how to help victims shoulder;
  let the pain of others to us be the molder

  of a better version of our integrity;
  let that be what guides our sense of community,
  so that we stop building buldings that look so lavish.
  Caring more for appearance is so fucking tragic

  when we’re called by creator and nature
  to build futures free of unspeakable torture –
  the kind that lies hidden beneath the facade
  of all you’re primed to praise and applaud.

  You’ve lost your way if you think my plea is irrelevant.
  We’re all guilty of excusing the violent
  ways we put each other down;
  it’s written all over this god forsaken southern town.

  My point in all this going on and on is to call
  you forward with all the gall
  I can muster on my first open mic night
  and ask you simply to do what is right.

  Stop leaving the voiceless alone in their fight;
  bring your own darkness into the light.
  Lean into accountability
  to walk and speak gently,

  especially to those in our care;
  remove violence from all we revere.
  Save retribution and unspeakable acts
  for the fuckers who would rather redact

  the flashbacks of those, who like me, made it out
  despite turned backs and adults in power who doubt
  that a child so tiny and pure
  could be telling the truth of all they endure.

  Don’t be like them, so blind to your own blindness.
  Seek above all else, parenting with kindness.
  Leave bruises and fear for other makers,
  lest like a raper you also be taker

  of what isn’t yours just because you carry the burden
  of feeding and clothing small bodies called children.
  Being mom or dad will never give you the right
  to metaphoric or literally beat them into the desires of your sight.

  And if you’re childless still like I am,
  you’re still called to be as defiant
  and stand up to the terror of a culture that would
  leave tiny victims to clean up their own blood.

  The way you help us stop repeating
  a past filled with emotional and physical beatings
  is vowing to be the one who separates –
  no longer letting violence and love collaborate.

  I’m afraid I’m known for being long-winded –
  character flaw gifted by blows from my kindred.
  But I promise I’m almost done.
  Let me boil it all down to one

  fine point.
  Like oil, let me anoint
  this simple and smart
  query onto your heart…

  Ask yourself…
  In what ways can I soften and slow
  And in this way let real love out of me flow?

  September 16, 2025

  abuse, children, community, csa, faith, family, flashbacks, IFS, life, love, mental-health, parenting, poetry, ptsd, rape, recovery, sexual assault, survivor, trauma, writing

  ---

• I tried to die

  What’s the point of being so beautiful?
  If broken –
  It feels like a trap
  Everyone can see something I
  Will never feel.

  What’s the point of being so broken
  If my lineage
  Dies with me –
  All the suffering and surviving –
  Just to end it on
  Beautiful, broken me.

  What’s the point of trying
  When it’s always my fault?
  If it’s not this, then it’s that –
  Never right, always wrong –
  Not all, but enough to
  Deserve this sad plight.

  Because it’s sad to be trapped in a body
  So perfect and beautiful –
  The envy of all.
  For one reason or another,
  So much to covet about
  The body that traps me
  To relive the memories –

  Of how I tried and I tried
  To get it all right,
  To be believable and good,
  To be understood,
  And to prevent the danger
  From ever arising,
  When all I lived in was danger
  Upon danger and danger!

  I should not have survived.
  I should not be here today.
  So, who cares if I’m too broken
  To take a hit and be gay?

  I’ll never get it right.
  I’m giving up the fight.

  This is stupid and dull
  I’m feeling done and tired
  Of always being told
  It’s my fault,
  Just try harder.

  September 7, 2025

  dying, flashbacks, IFS, life, love, mental-health, poetry, ptsd, recovery, suicidal, trauma, writing

  ---

• Promise, there is this part where

  Dear Survivor,
  I know you’re ready
  for Survivor to stop
  being your identity.
  The part you crop
  from insta stories
  is the part that brought
  you to right here.

  
  I’m here, as there are others
  who need to hear you
  speak real clear,
  about anything you want to.
  Your full story is worth telling;
  You’re worth pausing and reflecting.
  An entangled knowing
  including
  the parts you’re ready to drop.

  
  So, I’m here for the days
  when you are ready to set down;
  and also for the ways
  parts of you incredulously ask how
  there could be anything worth telling
  beyond the pain and violence unwitnessed.
  One day, I promise
  they’ll integrate too
  and know the meaning of pure bliss.

  
  But I’ll tell you now a little secret
  I’ve learned in all my asking –
  bliss and pain are both unfit
  for more than just this moment;
  their only part in our forever story
  is a series of
  ongoing nows
  never-ending hows
  brought fully
  to life
  in a blink
  or a wink
  just think
  about it.

  
  We were never endless suffering-
  we are what we choose
  to fully feel
  no matter how overwhelming
  entrapping
  dismantling-
  feel it all
  because I promise
  there is this part
  where it starts to feel
  a little lighter.
  

  And all we need
  is just to start.

  August 29, 2025

  flashbacks, IFS, life, love, mental-health, poetry, ptsd, recovery, trauma, writing

  ---

• Both as the menders

  Can I be really honest
  About this thing between us?
  You feel like the good night’s rest
  Of which I’ve always been suspicious.

  Don’t get my wrong, I really like you!
  I even like how much you make my cheeks hurt;
  From the joyful play that’s now your purview;
  Childlike awe and freedom in adulthood.

  A feeling for me that is a first!
  Because I’m used to shallow breaths,
  Not feeling like my heart could burst.
  Instead, downcast gaze tracing footsteps,

  Not raising my eyes to the sky in wonder.
  But listening – so heightened and on edge;
  Not receiving sounds so openly with candor –
  The way your voice lands like a long lost amends.

  And I hate that this is where I still land!
  Often one foot back in the past.
  But these days it feels less like a summons
  And more often like a much needed contrast.

  The kind that reminds me to keep going –
  No longer words I bitterly swallow –
  But a deep inside, fully felt knowing
  That all that pain was never hollow.

  Because, judge it if you must,
  There’s still a part of me – maybe many –
  Who doubt and refuse to trust
  That life is anything but plenty

  Full of violence and injustice.
  They’re the parts that keep open my back door
  Not just on you, but life and all this
  Hoping there was something more.

  Thank you for meeting me in this moment!
  I worked so fucking hard to get to here,
  When all the parts of me that were stolen
  Become the me’s I deeply revere.

  The truth is I didn’t see this coming!
  Not me, not you, not so much possibility.
  But you showed up and in me drumming
  The beat of my long lost creativity.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve found my ways
  Over the sad and scary trials.
  In all my surviving, there was sometimes play…
  I’m glad I held out for its revival!

  So again, Thank You for arriving
  in this plot twist; perfectly timed entrance!
  A love so steady is surprising –
  My real life healthy, secure romance.

  No really, Thank You, because I know the cost
  It takes to show up so grown and healed.
  And more importantly, willing to give love a shot
  When it’s the lingering hurts we’d rather conceal.

  Know that I’m here for all of it, all of you!
  Even parts you’d rather I never encounter.
  That’s right, I’m actually willing to lose
  For the chance to finally be keeper and founder

  Of the worth it part of the story,
  When we see clearly past the pain.
  From here on out, no longer in a hurry,
  No longer looking for someone to blame.

  Just hopeful, grateful and fully surrendered
  To the invitation forward surefooted and free.
  In love and awe, You and I, both as the menders
  Combining beautifully our tapestries.

  August 29, 2025

  blog, IFS, life, long distance, love, love story, mental-health, plot twist, poetry, ptsd, recovery, romance, trauma, writing

  ---

• When I put my foot in my mouth

  I never thought I could feel so broken
  Yet so free –
  Like my insides were on the outside
  And you could see every part of me;

  All the shady and twisted up
  Ways I came to be
  So beautiful and lonely
  And too stubborn for a love story.

  Because I do it without thinking;
  I kick away and push you back.
  Sometimes when I least fucking expect it,
  My insecurities come out and attack.

  I feel like such a disappointment
  When I hear it take over your voice.
  Oops… there she goes again!
  I swear I had no fucking choice

  To become so frustratingly distant,
  Guarded, harsh, and completely off track
  About the reality that someone like you
  Could ever love me back.

  But I don’t mean to make excuses or turn
  The focus back to my heartache
  When it’s you, not me, who in this moment
  Has every right to leave and take

  Not a single glance back in my direction,
  Not a second or passing thought,
  Because if she can say something so jarring
  It makes sense you would rather naught

  Invest more time, energy and trust –
  Especially given the distance.
  I know it doesn’t take much reason
  To feel the rise of logic’s resistance

  To putting your heart and tender emotions
  On a line for someone like me –
  Someone who is still afraid to let themselves love
  And learn the meaning of unconditionally.

  So, I am hoping you really do see
  Every part of me and right through
  And that tomorrow you have more resolve
  To invest in us anew.

  Because, I promise, I’ve never been more ready for
  A love like the one we’re creating.
  I just need you to give me more time and patience
  To make some missteps in all this relating.

  See, what you need to know about me in this thing
  We call dating – even if we still won’t call it that –
  Is that I think I’m ready to stop running and hiding
  Or letting my younger parts create old habitats.

  So, even though I put my foot in my mouth
  And gave you cause to wonder or question
  How this thing between us, despite distance,
  Might be temporary or clandestine;

  Truth is, I’m far more invested than I intended
  When I first said, “I don’t mean to be bold,
  But…” I think you knew it then like you do in this moment –
  It’s because of you, I want to grow old.

  Fuck, that’s probably too much to say
  At this point in time when we’re still so nervous
  To trust that love could show up unexpected,
  But denying our connection would be a disservice

  To the things we already know about
  How we’ve done this together in past lifetimes.
  Hell, at this point I’d even put good money down
  That you are the reason my thoughts come out in rhyme.

  But I digress, and I’m incredibly grateful
  You find it endearing when I do
  Use far too many words to find my footing
  And my fearful way back home to you.

  Because you know that even though I’m afraid
  I’m not the person with whom anyone ends up,
  I refuse to give up or leave you now
  Without first fully surrendering to love.

  August 19, 2025

  blog, IFS, inner romantic, life, long distance, love, mental-health, poetry, trauma, writing

  ---

• Time to go now

  Hey little body, long lost friend of mine,
  I know why you’ve kept your distance.
  I would, too- in fact, I’d die
  If I was met with so much resistance
  From the world around me.
  The looks from strangers and tv ads
  The one that say you asked for it, that you Seduced him. That one you know as dad.

  Ain’t it funny, how society
  Values innocence and chastity?
  But won’t raise a god damn finger
  To save small children from violent realities.

  Remember when that little girl climbed into the backseat of his car
  Followed by her little brother; she set him on her lap –
  You were far to scared to tell them that in this vehicle
  There’s no escape to what they’re running from, and they ought to just turn back.
  I know that you still think of them, and wonder if they could
  Have been the siblings to help you shoulder
  Such an unreasonably intolerable load.
  What a terrible thing to wonder about
  The fate of someone so small.
  I know why you still are afraid for them…
  It’s possible they didn’t make it after all.

  But you did, and now
  You’re rhyming in your sleep
  To think that better care of you
  Those parents of yours could ever keep.
  I know what he told you in that moment
  Still haunts you to this day.
  He said they came to us because he such a good dad
  But he only told you so you would obey.
  And obey you did real well for
  The majority of your years.
  You need to know I’m no longer angry
  For all the flashbacks you still put in my ears.
  Because I now know that your job
  Was to keep us breathing until we finally found
  The will to face the cold hard truth
  Of accepting the scars of terror, pain, and sound
  That he so firmly branded into your body in your youth.

  Sweet girl, I know it’s taken far too long
  For me to finally say this out loud –
  He lied, and yes, he did it all on purpose!
  Just hear me out, let me circle around-
  For a moment, let me take you back there-
  Promise, this is different from the ways you sound the alarm
  Of vibrant unwanted memories
  That tell the solemn story
  Of how we came to be so harmed.

  No, I promise this is different
  And I will endeavor to keep it brief.
  Just go back there to that moment
  With me; I’m trying to give you relief.
  From the burden you took on
  When you saw your big sister and mother in peril
  And learned quickly that your ability to fawn
  Would calm him down when he went feral.

  You need to know now that we’re done –
  I mean me, you and all our other parts –
  Blaming, shaming and even claiming
  That it was all your fucking fault.
  For being so damn cute and intelligent.
  For being so enragingly hard to resist.
  Truth is, had you not stepped up in that moment-
  In this moment, we wouldn’t exist.

  So, just follow me down the dark hallway
  This firmly final and last time,
  Even though you would rather ride away
  On imaginary horseback and upbeat rhymes.
  Let’s go back to the backseat shiver
  You felt when dared to say,
  It’s because they saw a good father
  That they climbed in hoping they could stay.
  He’s a fucking monster, a bully, a rapist!
  And THAT is why you won’t let me see his face
  In the memories you flood me with when pissed
  That I’ve made another mistake.

  Listen, I get it. I know I still scare you,
  Although I hope it’s not like it was
  When the picture became so askew
  And you believed it was because
  “You made me do this”
  “And she did, too”
  The classic argument for all of his
  Pedophilic fantasies.

  So, no I won’t blame you anymore
  Or get mad when the present you decide to hijack.
  I need you to know I know what’s in store
  Now that we are no longer subject to attack.
  So, keep the flashbacks coming – I know what they’re for –
  Until you believe that we’ll never go back.

  You never have to show me his face
  Or paint the picture they demand so clear.
  I need you to know we outran the chase
  And that we made it all the way to here.
  We’re now forty years old-
  Or at least I am
  And now I’m the one in control!
  Not him; Not her; Not them;
  Not the ones who turned their backs;
  Not the ones who said you were lying;
  Like they were all in the same pact
  Of enjoying a little girl dying
  Such a long, slow and nauseating fate.

  I promise, you no longer have to answer
  Those questions I, too, truly hate.
  The ones rehearsed by all the liars
  And the ones who can’t say the word rape.
  Like even just the mention
  Is such an inconvenience.
  “You’re only doing it for attention”
  Is what they say to negate your experience.

  Do you see where I’m going with
  All of this rambling and pleading to you?
  I ask you to hear my emphasis;
  That I believe you knew then what was true.
  And also – because you had to survive it –
  I know why you didn’t hear it all come thru.
  So yes, we’re back in that scary moment –
  I even like how you shaded it blue –
  Now hear me clearly when I tell you
  He knew exactly what his words would do
  To you
  And here’s the clue,

  He never stopped trying to misconstrue
  Not when he told you later in life
  About the other girls he raped, too.

  Yes, you
  Are the one in 9.
  And you are also not
  The ONLY one.

  So, can we stay here in this moment
  One firmly final time?
  Long enough for me to rip his throat out
  And speak the truly final line
  In this sad scene that we have come back to
  More times than anyone will know.
  Hear me, child, believe that together, we outgrew
  All the lies he made you stow.

  So, here it is,
  What I hope you remember
  Is that all of this
  Is a terror made up by a raper-
  And it’s a miracle we still exist.

  So, now I ask you gently,
  May I change the picture in your mind?
  I invite you to run away with me-
  Let’s unravel this tale and unbind
  Our loyalty to silent suffering;
  Of this we’ve had enough for many lifetimes.

  Do you see me standing outside,
  In your mind, that open door?
  I need you to step off the ride
  And trust; out here there’s so much more
  Than meets your swollen, tired eyes.

  It’s time to go now- Don’t look at him
  Eyes on me
  Promise, our future is no longer grim
  So, let’s flee
  This time together
  Because you are my family.

  And safe is where I’ll keep you,
  Don’t look back-
  I got you,
  This is fact
  You are the reason we outgrew
  All
  Of
  It

  Now,
  Let that memory
  Fade to black.

  August 17, 2025

  child sexual abuse, flashbacks, IFS, mental-health, poetry, ptsd, recovery, trauma

  ---

• How Now (Brown Cow)

  In you, I see forever
  But it’s not quite what you think.
  I see forever sunrises
  That cause me to not want to blink,
  For fear of losing just one second
  Of memories by your side.
  You, for me, you’re the only heaven
  On earth that I could ever find.

  But I know this sounds so stupid
  Because we’ve only just begun
  To read the lines that are on our pages –
  It’s a pretty melody when it’s hummed.
  But I don’t want to sing a sad song;
  And the truth is, this is how our story sounds
  Because, how could forever last a lifetime?
  All I know is in you I’ve found

  The parts of me that went missing
  Such a very long time ago.
  Not just once or twice or three times, but countless little deaths
  When the answer was really no.
  It’s in you I have found so many yes’s;
  You’re like a treasure trove in a book.
  How did I ever fucking find you
  When I was too afraid to even look?

  But that’s the thing, I think I found you,
  In the least expected place.
  When I wasn’t looking or even believing,
  That’s when I found it all in your sweet face;
  The love I always wanted,
  The kind that is free & uncontrolled.
  I swear I know I’ve found it,
  Like when you know, you’re done, you’re sold!

  But what if my heart doesn’t know how to buy into
  A story so sweet and free
  From the sinister moments
  Of heartache and tragedy
  That I’ve known for more than a lifetime?
  Because it’s not the violence that made cold;
  It’s the way no one would help me
  When I was just three small years old.

  I was so small and innocent, so divinely perfect
  And loving when he and she decided to rape me;
  Not one or two or three or four times, but an endless,
  Ongoing saga of “hush little darling” this is your reality.
  So now, I’m left to wonder how a body so broken and tormented
  Could ever be perfect or loving again…
  No, it’s not possible or even imaginable
  When you’ve been where I have been.

  Because I’ve been underneath his crushing weight.
  Yes, I still remember how it felt
  To know that no one was coming –
  So, why even cry for help?
  But I was stubborn, maybe even filled with hope
  That one day someone would see
  That I was drowning, dying, crying, trying
  To survive the unspeakable-
  For just a moment, to be free.

  Free from the terror, the nightly attacks
  And even the ones that played out in daylight.
  You see, I was never safe to be just a kid.
  I had to always be ready to put up a fight.
  And I wish I had known how to fight
  Because maybe then he would have stopped-
  Stopped coming after me, even into adulthood
  You see, this is the one thing he never dropped.

  Let it go, move on, you’re wrong, they told me
  Every damn day of my life,
  Until I finally got the courage
  To pick up that metaphorical knife.
  I cut them off, I said “I can’t keep doing
  This” ridiculous dance of faith
  That one day you’d show up with an apology
  For all the violence I had to take.

  But that day hasn’t come, and it’s not coming.
  And I refuse to continue to wait
  On the fairytale I made up in my nightmare –
  The one where you gave me one less reason to hate
  All the things good in this lifetime,
  Like the angels that kept me alive.
  Because what good is the good if they’re willing
  To facilitate the violence I had to survive?

  I know that you didn’t do this to me
  And I see where I stopped talking to you and instead them-
  But that’s what trauma does to the present moment.
  It’s like to the past that I am condemned
  To relive over and over and over.
  You see, I’ve learned to let it go, move on, I’m wrong
  To think that I’m worth saving, or helping, or even loving;
  That dream died the moment I had to become so strong.

  And strong I really did become.
  D’you know I fought them all off when i got big enough?
  But by then,
  The damage was done.

  And so I ask you in this present moment
  Let me refine my curiosity…
  Because I know forever can last a lifetime-
  Just take a look at me!
  I’ll forever remember the sounds, smells and sensations
  That were done to me when I said no.
  And I’ll carry this onto my deathbed
  With no hope for justice or clo-

  Sure, That’s what forever means in my body.
  It’s like there’s no more room for good
  Even though I swear I tried, I really did,
  To be the daughter they understood.
  I stayed, I honored, I kept quiet
  For as long as my broken heart could-
  Until I realized I was dying a death that
  No one ever should.

  And so I moved on, I let go, because I was wrong
  To think that love could ever exist
  In a body so broken, so tormented –
  A body so disgustingly hard to resist.
  This is why I am so tortured
  By the unwanted attention, admiration and praise.
  Because I don’t know if the next kind word from a stranger
  Will result in another connection betrayed.

  And I’ve done the work – the heavy lifting, the deep emotional excision –
  Of facing my torment
  Caused by the demons I was given against consent
  And not even a trace of lament
  That they could do this to their own daughter-
  The one they tell my friends they miss so much-
  The one they scared so firmly into silence
  That she uses distance now as a crutch.

  But the distance hasn’t saved me
  And it hasn’t helped me forget any of it.
  Distance is such a disappointing lie, a myth, a joke;
  She’s such a raping son of a bitch.
  The kind you can never get away from
  Not in daylight or when I close my eyes.
  She’s the kind of demon, a sea man
  That reminds me – I will never thrive.

  No, I’ll just flit around this lifetime
  For how ever many years I have left,
  Chasing promises of healing to no avail-
  Trying to die no longer bereft.
  I fear I’ll never know what it means to be living –
  To feel fully, Joy and Ease.
  I fear those are just the daydreams
  Of a broken child who could never leave.

  And you know, I ran away a lot!
  They told me it’s what made me bad…
  Bad enough to consume so completely
  And then dare to still call himself my dad.
  And so I changed my name and theirs, too.
  I moved on, I let go, because I was wrong
  To ever assume they would ever want to love me like a daughter-
  I fear I let it go on too long
  Before I ever put my foot down
  Before I called it like it is.
  I was 38 before I could even speak it
  Before I knew any other truth than his.

  And now that I’ve spoken the truth out loud
  And seen reality for what it was
  I’m not sure how to move forward alone, unencumbered,
  When the past still haunts – it chases, it gnaws –
  At every day that I dare to exist
  To know something more than this
  Tragedy; unspeakable, now out in the open.
  A life with someone like me, I know nobody put on their checklist
  Of things worth doing, living or knowing.
  You see I grew up … very fast.
  Too fast for fibs and fairytales
  And forevers made up of anything but the past.

  And this brings me to my refined question; I don’t doubt the permanence of forever –
  I simply wonder if now is real…
  The kind of now you drop me into
  When you open your sweet mouth and I feel
  Like I could finally let my guard down-
  Like I no longer have to fight-
  Like you won’t overtake me or attack me
  In the middle of the night.

  It’s a low bar, I know; It’s truly pathetic
  Trust me, I’m ashamed that this is what I’ve known.
  I would if I could go back and die a million deaths, one after the other
  If it would keep me from being this grown
  And so very broken, but beautiful.
  Because I never meant to show up in your life, so unexpected
  And wholly unsuitable
  For the kind of love and life and story
  That any sane person would dream of.
  I know you didn’t ask for this any more than I did-
  It’s like a bad joke from up above.

  So tell me, lover, do you still want me
  Now that you know what I’ve been through?
  I wouldn’t blame you if you decided
  That all of this is too much for you.
  I know it’s a lot, believe me I know
  It’s not anything you wanted to hear.
  Can you understand why I kept so quiet
  Year after year after year after year?

  Because I never asked to be raped by my father
  And for my mother to choose him over me.
  I never asked to make it to forty and so surrounded by love
  From strangers who I’ve chosen for my current family.
  I never asked to disrupt the ecosystem
  Of anyone I hold so dear.
  It’s just that I don’t know how to reconcile existing in a world
  Where I no longer have to fear;
  Fear the ways in which my story cause you
  To hurt and squirm and tear up.
  Had I known the irony of thriving after surviving
  I probably would have given up.

  But I didn’t, and you know, it feels like the right thing to do.
  For your sake, I would fake it if you asked.
  I guess that little girl inside me
  Knows no limit to what she can be tasked.
  Because I’d do it. I’d quit. I’d die tomorrow
  If it meant you didn’t have to hold space
  For the broken parts of me, so shameful and hard to look at-
  I’d disappear her so eagerly, leave no trace!

  You don’t know how badly I want to stop talking about this bullshit past.
  But it’s like because I dissociated to survive it
  I’m bound to repeat it until I expire;
  It’s not a story I know how to outlast.
  And I’m trying, I promise I’m trying
  To outrun it, to burn it, to transmute it
  And sometimes I think I’ve finally done it
  And then the past takes over the the present-
  In any now, the past can ruin it.

  I know you didn’t ask and now I’m rambling…
  I know you thought this would be a love note.
  Don’t get me wrong. It is! I promise it’s about you
  And me just trying to stay afloat
  In what we found, when we weren’t even looking for
  Another person to feel so right.
  It’s like we’ve done this in a thousand lifetimes-
  Is this why I survived the night?

  But, no pressure! I promise you don’t need to save me
  From myself or even him.
  I promise I’m a big girl now –
  I’m even a he and them!
  That’s right, I can’t tell this story without including all
  The parts of me that taught
  Me how to run, flee, fight back, escape
  No matter what the cost.

  And so now we’re in this moment.
  And I really wish I knew how
  To be in just this moment
  Without raising a skeptical brow,
  As though you were the one who hurt me
  All those many years ago.
  You see, the problem is that it didn’t stop hurting-
  It’s like such unspeakable violence is all I’ll ever know.

  But I’ve found that in my speaking
  Comes a release I still don’t trust or believe.
  I started talking long before
  I was ever ready to say yes to such a reprieve;
  The kind that causes me to exhale-
  The way your energy causes me to exhale.
  You don’t even have to do anything;
  You just exist and I no longer want to bail
  On this thing. I guess, it’s called love?
  Look, I think I love you – just as a friend.
  Be cool! Don’t freak out! Don’t get it twisted!
  Whatever it is; I don’t want it to end.

  And again, I don’t mean to scare you;
  Because what you don’t know about me
  Is I’m really hard to pin down-
  I’ll never let him do that again to me.
  So, you don’t have to worry about not being able to shake
  Me from your life or day to day, if you so choose.
  I know what it’s like to have my no disregarded
  And now it’s my integrity I refuse to lose.

  So, if at any point you want out of this unexpected connection that feels so fucking familiar –
  Say the word, and I’ll gladly leave you be.
  I’ll move on, I’ll let go, I’ll be wrong
  About the ways you’ve already helped me
  Realize that the past is just a story –
  An old one I’m ready to forget.
  I’m doing the work of changing behavior,
  So I can walk away from you without any regrets
  That I didn’t try my hardest
  To love you and be in the now –
  A million nows, so endless and ongoing.
  I promise, one day I’ll stop asking you how
  This is real or even safe or not a joke.
  I promise, one day I’ll stop leading with the fear that anything I love and trust
  Will all go up in smoke.

  “Even if it did, it would be worth it”
  Is something I’ve heard you say.
  I think I’m almost to a point of agreeing with you;
  I guess love really does find a way
  Of healing the un-mendable parts of us –
  The ones we bury deep inside.
  I was never really good at hiding
  And I’m so grateful you seem up for the ride.
  I’m grateful, too,
  But only because it’s you – not anyone else.
  I couldn’t imagine writing all of this to any other.
  With you, I feel free to be fully felt.

  That’s why I’m leading now with my darkness
  Because it’s what I’m working through.
  I promise, I’m not just doom and gloom and sad stories,
  But I think that’s something you already knew.
  I see it when you look at me –
  You see the sadness, but you also see my light.
  I’m so grateful I survived the sad stories.
  I’m so grateful I won this fight!
  Because this feels like winning forever
  Even if it’s only just right now-
  You and I both know that forever
  Is just a bunch of endless nows.

  And so, now is where I find you
  And I’ll keep coming back to here.
  I hope you keeping wanting to find me
  And pull me close, draw me in so near
  To your heart – that place I know you
  Also keep
  Your own vault of tragedies, unspoken stories
  Of your own variety.

  I hope that in my vulnerability you find
  The kind of inspiration
  That allows you to forget and never mind,
  And build your life on a different foundation
  Than what those sad stories
  Would have you believe
  Is possible for someone like you
  And me.
  I know I said it in the heat of the moment
  “I think we both deserve this.”
  But I meant it! I mean it! I’ll live it
  In every kiss and bliss-
  Full moment I get to be with you!
  Whether we’re in the same town or not –
  I don’t care if it’s one day or twenty –
  I’ll keep reminding you, I like you a lot.

  I hope no matter how this goes, you always know
  How much you’ve already helped heal my heart.
  You’ve changed my perspective about
  What it means to be apart
  From you, from myself, and the love that’s been waiting
  For me to open my eyes and see
  That I was never apart but a part
  Of a greater love story.
  It’s the kind where I get to write a new chapter
  In every now. No more then;
  Only now. I get to put it all on paper
  And not worry about why or when-
  Just choose my yes over and over and over
  Until my no’s are nowhere to be found.
  I’ll love you until forever
  Because I’m realizing love knows no bounds.

  I knew you before this lifetime. Of this,
  I’ve never been more sure.
  So, again, thank you for finding me
  After all I’ve had to endure.

  I think I’m finally ready to admit that it was all worth it.
  How could any other truth even be
  When I have you standing here, so grounding,
  So lovingly looking right back up at me?
  So, I’ll love you in this moment
  In whatever capacity you’ll allow,
  Because I don’t care anymore about forever
  All I want is right here and now.

  August 15, 2025

  child sexual abuse, flashbacks, IFS, love, mental-health, poetry, ptsd, recovery, trauma

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