His message

tw: abuse

 

He sent me a message
My abuser, that is
He wrote me a missive
With no acknowledgement of how we ended
Of how I feared for my life
As he threatened to bash me with that long metal pole.

He wrote me a question
Not the one I would answer
About what went wrong
And the hurts that were caused

He asked me a question
Seeking reentry
To something denied him
This life and mind now out of his grasp

Yet still I miss him
And desire to answer
Giving vivid descriptions
Of my life and my loves

A part of me hates him
Wants to tell him he hurt me
And to leave me alone

I write him no answers
Allowing no access
To my heart and my mind

He wrote me a letter

And I cried while she held me.

And yet.

Tw: abuse, self-harm, suicide

Sometimes I want to hurt myself

Just to feel anything

Sometimes I want to hurt myself

To externalize the pain

 

I know the difference between teasing and mocking

Who drew this target on me anyway?

Was it my mom terrorizing me?

Was it the Church teaching me I was worthless?

Was it my entire school’s ostracism?

It wasn’t my first friend, who choked me.

It wasn’t the other who threatened me.

They came later, with a target already drawn.

 

Sometimes I want to kill myself.

I wonder how I haven’t done it yet.

My entire life I’ve been mocked.

Friends, coworkers, those in power above.

Sometimes I want to die

Self hatred never knocks

And then I remember the few

Who’ve held my tenderness

Who’ve been worthy of my trust

And I cry

So few have

College Party

Another crowded room
I don’t fit in
Twenty year olds
Drinking, Dancing
Someone else’s Paradise
Not my scene

Where is my quiet room
My books and tea
Intimate talks
Quiet friendships

Not here, with music cranked
Not here, with unfamiliar bodies
Not here, I don’t fit

I never did

Conservatory of Flowers

Sitting in the conservatory of flowers
Smelling the wild things grow
Mist is moistly dripping
While outside the wind did blow

Sitting amongst the flowers
While my lover learns to play
Rain continues falling
And here is where I’ll stay

Soon she will rejoin me
Under the roof of glass
And I am gladly waiting
As pleasant time does pass

Loaded Question

Pain, Pain, Go away

Come again some other day

Actually, no.

Please, don’t come back

I hate being disabled.

I look so sturdy

I’m untempered glass

Wondering which hammers will fall

Nerves?

Joints?

Muscles?

That Damocles Sword named depression?

“How are you?” is a loaded question.

No one believes me anyway.

Reflections on being put in a Box Tie

CN: kink

Slowly the ropes get tighter
And dig in more
Such a wonderful pressure

With each pass through
The lines vibrate
And hum across me

She laughs behind me
“Don’t worry, it’s not an evil rope top laugh.”
I’m relieved and. . . disappointed?

She says she’s quite a sadist
I’m intrigued but don’t pursue
Some things can wait

I strain against my tie
Not to escape
I like where I am

A feeling of trust
In consent bound space
She captures me again on film

The party is ending
Soon time to go
And be loosed from my bonds

Ropes hum again
Slowly relaxing
A most subtle pleasure

Hemp runs against
Sensitive places
Before it hits the floor

Completely unbound now
But marks to remember
And scent that lingers behind.