Though my light was dimmed

“You can’t be a beacon if your light don’t shine…”

It’s that 2am shiver that used to make me quiver

I’d drift away praying you’d stay

Morning would come and let me wonder is he done

Where was my shine once so divine

Everyday a little less love forgetting to look above

Why are you with me I never felt free

This was a nightmare dressed like a daydream

Something was true I was feeling brand new

This fire began to glow as I started to grow

There’s that spark I thought went dark

Here I will remain never again to be the same

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

Her inner turmoil

Baby girl, you possess power, strength and courage… let them ignite from within 🔥💗

Her pain, her anguish, her depletion, there is nothing I can do for her except to pray.

I can’t console her when the fire in her belly is ignited by rage.

“Can you rest, allowing your mind to slowly unwind while your body shuts itself down?”, I ask.

She stirs and mumbles something incoherent just as the rant awakens once more.

Relax is not in her vocabulary, only anxiety is the skill set she has acquired.

The uncomfortableness she feels in her own skin, it ravages her soul.

I shower just to find her gone when I appear from the steamed up bath.

A quick phone call to inquire are you alright, shall I keep on the light?

I hear my best friend’s voice in my head, “just let her vomit those eroding thoughts that haunt her”.

She doesn’t want you to fix her, just listen to her heart.

The words shoot through me like bullets loaded with her venom.

She’s not attacking me and she doesn’t mean to raise her voice, but it feels unbearable as I be still.

Wouldn’t you know, the less I speak, the calmer she becomes.

The thread began to wear to the end as did she from beginning to not quite the end.

Tomorrow might be the same or even a little bit different, who knows?

One thing is sure, this child struggles and suffers devastatingly so.

Yet no matter how near, far or out of touch, I will never leave her side because I simply love her that much.

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️TK

The pieces of me

Kintsugi is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.

We break up just to make up, but the truth is I never knew I could love so deeply and be broken so completely.

At 14 he began to steal my innocence, but I didn’t understand. I learned to be invisible not to take his brand.

Manipulation was the name of the game, but it was never myself that was to blame.

Insidiously he took from me every bit of trust, but it wasn’t my fault it was his lust.

My insides eroded as I seethed with anger and rage, but still I was trapped within my cage.

I chased love like a marathon runner who lost, but I kept up the pace no matter the cost.

It was at my own expense and deprivation that drove me straight to you, but I was convinced from the start I could see right through.

Dance with me was my wish, pull me close, never let me go to grieve, but you wouldn’t give instead you chose to leave.

Our agreement established by the one called master became null and void with the final slap, but had it not, forever I would’ve been snared in your most dangerous trap.

See your marks, how they still remain, the ones you said I deserve and had to earn, but once I thought, when will a good girl such as me ever learn?

You chose this with all your reality and truth revealed, but how would you expect me to keep it all concealed?

Manipulation, coercion, control and trickery used  for destruction to tear me down, but you yourself put on my special, sparkling queen’s crown.

Every night my body poured into yours, but I was merely just one of your whores.

She must be fucked in the head, but it doesn’t matter since now she is long but dead

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

This 12×12 space

Empty space filled with love 💗

Is where I feel safe I can hide from it all

Nothing can touch my heart I won’t fall

My life is flashing quickly before my eyes

It’s taken this long for me to become wise

Regrets I work hard not to have or to hold

Lessons I choose to admire as I grow old

Thank you for sharing your secrets in my ear

I’ve been holding my fondest memories very near

I always thought I could make my heart feel better

All it’s ever truly been is a broken delicate fracture

The pain I’ve worn has shown me what I need

At times it cries out as blood trickles and I bleed

When did all this time escape and pass me right by

Why do I continue to waste it and be made to cry

Because he left when I was merely a baby girl

Then again when she died leaving me in a whirl

The door has been open wide

Waiting for you to come on inside

Those who have walked through broke me more

No one else can have me as I begin to explore

Life is becoming what I make it up to be

The best thing I know is that I’m finally feeling free

✍🏼🧖🏼‍♀️

My dirty little secret

Break every chain, break every chain…🔒🗝⛓

She asked, “is that from a song, or the name of one?” I smiled and only nodded, but when I said it, I was lost in thought. Confused by my lack of response, she ventured off in the other room, allowing me to be alone with my previous thoughts. There was something to be said for secrecy.

When I was a child, my best friend and I always seemed to have a secret to tell. We made a game out of whispering something in the others ear and then swearing that to secrecy as if someone’s life depended on it. Our pinkies crossed, we spit in our palms and shook as we saw the boys do. There, now we have a solid promise with double insurance.

What on earth did a couple of 8 year old little girls have to keep so private? I guess it was the first act of many that would prove the other trustworthy. It wasn’t that those secrets were so deadly, offensive or of trouble, but there was something in the process of swearing to God, the famous pinky promise and the disgusting exchange of slimy palms that just made it all so pensive.

Did we ever go back on our word? We shared a lot of those so called secrets over the years and I don’t recall any repercussions like my hand falling off, or my skin peeling away and we are still friends to this day, so I guess we shall never know, but can safely assume we did abide by that strict code.

I flash forward back to this present day and forget about the lyrics to that old song as I retrace those memories and wonder where they came from. What ignited the buried remembrances and why? Again I murmured under my breath this time, dirty little secrets, hoping to find the thread and rip it out.

My mind took control and before I knew it, together we were recapturing or more like trapping, the images that were replaying in my head. What do you want, I asked as if they had the ability to answer, but I waited nonetheless. No answer came and I was forced to watch what felt like a movie of my life playing only I wasn’t the star. Suddenly it had become clear what the fuck was going on.

I’ve lived a life this long and the story is so far from over yet for all this time, I have not been the leading lady starring in my own life. I got it, the message was clear. I am beginning to feel the cuffs are loosening, the chains are breaking and the bondage is slowly being freed…

✍🏼🧖🏼‍♀️

Don’t let me fall

Don’t shut me out 🚪 🔨 👊🏼

I sat there on the couch, feet up, cuddled by the warmth of my favorite blanket watching nothing in particular on the tv, apparently it was for the background noise . The quietness outside competed with the sound of your car as you pulled into the drive. I took a semi deep breath and remained calm, both of which have been difficult to accomplish these days.

Typically you come by, with your usual demeanor, the inability to just be. I feel the energy coming at me before you enter the door, but this time you remained in your car. Curious as to what you were doing, I casually strolled past the window a time or two to take a glance, ah, you’re on the phone. This could be awhile, and it was. I took notice as I confirmed what had your attention. There was something different about you, but I’ll wait I thought. My intuition is pretty strong and my emotional intellect even higher. After all, you are my child, grown or not, I carried you in my body for 9 months. Little gets past me and even less surprises me.

Finally you made your way through the door and I was correct about your person although I wasn’t quite sure what it was, not yet. We got beyond the formalities of hi’s and hugs and found ourselves sitting now, a little awkwardly and I was eager to know why. Clearly you have a heavy heart, a burden you’re struggling to balance and even hold. You’d begin talking incessantly, this is never new to me, but there was a nervousness about you and I just listened. This has become our routine. You talk, I listen and soon it turns into a long threaded rant on nearly every topic from childhood to current time. Whew. Catch a wave pal, you’re drifting. I remain quiet, taking in what I can, paying attention to my own breath, facial expressions arms and body language. This child is working up to something heavy and deep as the words keep flying, but not much is being said.

There’s that moment when someone is trying desperately to unload something, but fear has stymied what is needing to be shared and so the conversation goes in circles and backtracks, then the trickles begin. The questions fly, do you remember when I was such and such and age and this and that happened? I’m trying to keep up, really focus on what’s being said or rather what’s being eluded to but not fully comprehending the message. I’m working on my patience. My unconditional love for this grown child pouring out from me while the fumbling keeps happening. This went on for 4 hours. God have mercy on this child and help the words just flow, please Lord.

At last the personal revelation and truth emerged from this poor child’s lips. I sit silently as I feel my shoulders relax and I grin, hoping my quiet response was loving and supportive. I nodded in agreement or maybe it was acceptance, but either way, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. At last we have a reason, the reason for all the peculiar, relentless, angry behavior that has consumed this child for nearly 25 years.

TBC…

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

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