Monday, January 18, 2016


You perpetrated an act and left the scene
status intact, theft covered over
leaving me to unbury the truth
with a trail of clues
the way my left foot curves inward
impotently shielding my weakened feminine
the way I always feel, deep inside,
that something only mine was
taken before I even knew I had it
my habit of giving myself away for free or very little,
a childish defense intended only to lessen what’s taken,
not realizing my power to make it stop
the fact I believe I deserve
to live lovelessly for acts I parroted in infantile rages,
desiring to destroy another as I had been destroyed
the myriad ways I self-sabotage
a self-prophesied, self-compromised almost ran
too often conquered by her fears

The body has a memory of things the mind can’t bear to see

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