Scars
These
scars are still healing,
the
impression of your hateful words are like red lashes across my back,
the
marks you left on me inside and out.
Angela Yuriko Smith, Pixabay |
I
recall the shock of finding bruises in places no one else could ever see,
the
impact of your teeth marks everywhere,
the
hard ways you took me and left me hating us both.
When
you’d roll over and sleep it off,
I
felt so empty and I’d do everything I could to make silent tears.
Counseling, Pixabay |
I
couldn’t show how much it scarred me.
The
belittling words you’d throw my way,
later
I was sure you were intimidated that I was smarter than you,
but
then you did whatever you could to make me feel less.
You
don’t understand how hard it was to take the step away months later,
the
final one,
not
because I cared too much for you,
but
more because I knew I deserved better and you’d never see that.
It
was also a challenge afterward,
the
constant memories crowding my mind,
the
time I flinched when you almost hit me,
how
I thought I was stuck in place,
Cocoparisienne, Pixabay |
crippled
by fear and jailed by your cold heart.
I
recall the dark emotions swirling within me,
sometimes
I still can’t see myself enough,
and
I am afraid I’ll disappear into the ether,
a forgotten note,
Kellepics, Pixabay |
just
where you wanted me then.
These
scars will always be there,
but
I know breaking away was best.
Sometimes
I still feel the hard grip of your touch,
the
harshness in your dark eyes,
without
a hint of compassion,
even
when I was in physical pain.
The
way you demanded,
only
demanded everything,
but
never gave back.
I
have to shut my eyes against the shadowy memories.
Geralt, Pixabay |
Then
the next one came along,
with
his gentle approach and it was easy to sink into complacency.
Except
he hurt me in a different way,
as
men sometimes do.
He
had no way of knowing the deep cut he made would turn me inside out,
Milada Vigerova, Unsplash |
swirling
in my gut,
when I saw further into the darkness and lost myself a bit more.
As
life often goes,
I
made plenty of mistakes later,
like
an addict does with no other options,
exploiting
internal weaknesses I shouldn’t have touched.
These
scars have marked me….made me the woman I am today.
They
say experience makes you stronger.
Then
I should be invincible by now.
Yet
I’m not,
just
me,
sometimes
still the girl you scarred so much.
But
there is a day now and then when I feel an ounce of peace and I can find the
light.
It’s
a journey…even though years have passed,
and
I live in the comfort of one who truly loves me,
I
remember and know the scars I’ve collected on my skin define me.
Created by Tirachard - Freepik.com |
A
survivor.
©
2018, Marie Lavender.
***Author's Note: if this poem moved you rather than disturbed you (I apologize for the frankness about my life), consider reading Directions of the Heart, a collection that explores the many facets of PTSD and the journey of healing. These are tales that are close to my heart.