Take it back

Freedom

She knelt upon her knees
Begging him please
Then she picked herself up from the floor
Stared him in the eye, I am not your whore

On her heel she spun
This time she had won
Gone from his sight
Disappearing into the night

Her life became her own
As she stood there on her throne
From this day forward amongst all the rest
You bow before me the queen of the nest

Her worth now intact
She took herself back
Taller with pride
Taking it in stride

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

Chasing positivity

☮️🏃‍♀️

Reflection over my life so far, I’ve learned to run after a positive mindset. Greatly wanting to live this way, but always battling with it. I can give kudos and be outwardly uplifting with an abundance of encouragement, for you. This is who I am. This is what I do. But what about me? Where is that self care and love component to gift myself?

They tell me self forgiveness and acceptance is how I will achieve this. Then I go down the rabbit hole where the misery lives. It’s dark and damp, with cobwebs and it kind of smells like death. I don’t purposely fall down in there. I do allow others to trample my heart and that’s when I find myself climbing out yet again.

So far spending time getting reacquainted with me has been both enlightening and disappointing at the same time. Regret is not a common word in my vocabulary. I’ve enough emotional recovery and healing to understand the positive influence every experience has had on my spirit. Then I tend to combat it with a negative connotation because this is how I have been conditioned. Trained out of deserving peace and comfort, even joy. At least on a more often than not basis. That can be debilitating and quite depressing.

I’ve come to dislike those positive memes. Don’t send me the rainbows and unicorns with puppies and kitties telling me to have a bright sun shiny day. Those don’t resonate with me. I need to know that I’ve walked through some hard fucking shit and I am a survivor. In other words, remind me how far I’ve come and that I am ok!

I know this too shall pass and all the other quirky slogans I’ve learned and implemented into my everyday living, but most days I simply need to just be authentically me. A craft I have yet to perfect and likely never will, but my ultimate goal… to be comfortable in my own damn skin. Finding that balance between my own satisfaction and happiness while participating in this event called life. Is it always going to be a chore or will I wake up one day and everything will magically just smooth out? I highly doubt that and I am curious to know the antidote. Meanwhile I will just keep on keeping on, loving you with my whole heart as I work to gift this to myself.

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

The battleground where you play

https://www.instagram.com/p/CSzj46opZLP/?utm_medium=copy_link

I cried a solemn tear as another decided to join. A flood fell from my eyes, few of them have fallen over these past 2 years, I just hadn’t realized.

I’ve been holding my breath forgetting now and then. Relearning not to stuff things down, that life will begin again.

Today we sat in a formal court of law and chaos, only to have it postponed a dreaded 3 more months of hell. I glanced over in disbelief with the days passing by in jest.

Not knowing you’ll take yourself with you everywhere you go. Escaping is your game, haunting you in the night the demons start to glow.

Such a coward in a withering state. How did you convince me of so many horrid things? Running swiftly from your trap through the once locked down gate.

Faster I go till I reach the other side. My tear stained cheeks, no sacred place to hide.

I hate you for all of the things you’ve done. The torment you placed deep within, I battle it everyday. But more than that I despise who you’ve become.

You’ve disappointed me repeatedly, making me gasp. Unclench your fingers wrap them around your own neck. I’m reaching out for freedom in a world that I can grasp.

I fought to hold on
Now I battle to let go
Your presence inflicts residue
Your absence reflects turmoil

What a fucked up mind
Wreckage created by you
All you’ve left behind
There’s nothing more I can do
You’ve hurt me for the last time

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

Transformative

https://www.instagram.com/p/CObdNObgeQe/?utm_medium=copy_link

She tells her truth no matter what
It’s how she was raised and what she was taught

Don’t begrudge her by hushing her now
The spectacular voice has become a deafening roar

You thought you could keep her silently in fear
Listen to her now watch her soar see her sneer

What was so damaged that you couldn’t mend
How lucky for you she sought you to be a friend

Taking everything selfishly for your greed
Look at her as she forms her own creed

Take your rightful place beneath her feet
She wipes her shoes upon you never by defeat

How proudly she stands so poised with a beam
Eloquently she whispers it’s my time to dream

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

Just scream into the void

empty space, mine

A wrinkle in time
Heart won’t slow
Eyes can’t stay closed
Set the clock to rewind

Listen can you hear me
I lost my breath out there
Extracted every emotion
Floating about feeling free

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

My fear doesn’t stand a chance when I stand in Your love

Dark as the full moon sits high above
Pondering old thoughts thinking about love

What does it all mean
Another sip of this warm toasted bean

Only two hours from now
You’ll hold your head and bow

It didn’t have to be this way
The pain you carry is what led you astray

One final session fate in another’s hand
Words you will never speak cover up your brand

The crime committed loving with my whole heart
Under your captivity ripped us completely apart

Be well until the end of your time
For me I’ll sit quietly and continue to rhyme

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

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…

✍🏼🧖🏼‍♀️

The insanity cha cha

🧠🔨

She’s too tired to cry. She’s too worn to care. She’s too numb to feel. She’s too torn to choose.

She cries out, please hold my heart. She rises up, please heal my soul. She reaches out, please mend my spirit.

She’s not where she once was, but she’s not yet where she hopes to be.

He’s too tired to cry. He’s too worn to care. He’s too numb to feel. He’s too torn to choose.

He makes her cry with her heart so heavy. He holds her down wreaking havoc on her soul. He lets go of her hand as he unravels her spirit.

He’s not yet where he wants to be, but he’s not where he once was either.

The familiarity draws them close, makes him run, leaving her all alone.

Driven by fear, neither can receive God’s Favor to make it disappear.

In her darkest despair, she struggles to believe, he won’t trust so neither can receive.

✍🏻🧖🏼‍♀️

Disappointment is overdone

How many scars should she justify just because she trusted the man holding the knife? 🔪

She sat in her bed as the sun streamed through

Her heart feeling heavy as it had the day before

She thought to herself why she continues to dwell

A new day awakens her with a better story to tell

Still she can’t help but wonder

Why she can’t keep herself from going under

She takes a different road for a change of scenery

Her attachment lingers although she’s feeling free

She’s scarred, wounded and maybe even bent

Never could she have predicted the way it went

How messed up life can be with one wrong turn

Disappointed again just let the fuckers burn…

✍🏻🧖🏼‍♀️

Rescuing herself

She hides behind her smile, her insides riddled with anxiety, her breath shortens while her chest is tight and yet you can’t fathom how deep her troubles run. She disguises it well from the outside world while she fights to get up and face another day.

This friend of yours shares a story with you, one where you aren’t sure if she’s referring to herself or something she’s read, but suddenly you realize, it is in fact her horrific experience. As you continue to politely listen, the shock and disbelief well up. The pain grows in her heart, the agony dims the light in her eyes and as you watch, her body physically changes. She speaks more words, you become uncomfortable and though you don’t mean to, you interrupt her flow with your concerned opinion. Suddenly she turns the faucet off, chokes back her tears and shuts back down. She is experiencing a trigger from a deep gaping wound. Voiceless again, she shoves that secret back down to where it lives.

You didn’t mean to create this reaction. How could you know that this friend standing in front of you has such inner turmoil erupting inside of her? She took a chance on you, trusting you to just hear her cries and take her seriously without judgement or condemnation. So often when she has a moment of bravery and courage to reach out, she does so with the hope of being heard, believed and understood. She hesitates, even retracts some of the information and begins trivializing it once more.

She didn’t “know better”. She struggles with confusion and retraces her steps over the years of abuse. How could she be so trusting, so naive, as she beats herself up now too, feeling so dumb. Over time, she disappeared, even to herself. The coercion and insidiousness of what had become her life, though a little more behind her, the pain engulfs her and she desperately fights to overcome. Her friends observe from their perspective., “She’s a survivor. She’s resilient. She’s strong”. You think you see her solutions and without meaning to, the accusations fly; “if she would just abc, xyz”. “This again?” “Are you still talking about HIM/that?!” These are the worst things you can say to her. All of your well intended thoughts would cause her to retreat back to her darkness where she resides with those secrets that whittle her away.

Never dismiss her need to keep talking. There’s more that keeps emerging with every passing day as she fights for the freedom of her soul. This isn’t one of those things she can keep ignoring and hope it dissipates on its own. No, the poison has to come out with the fear from her oppression. One day you will notice the light returning to her spirit and you’ll know she is healing. Meanwhile, hear her, hug her, just be there.

They have all loved her through the battles they can see, but can you with the ones invisible to you? Is it unconditional or based on her doing what makes you more at ease? She keeps wrestling with the lies she’s been told and the battles still to overcome, wondering if there’s truth to any of it. She is telling you in her own way of her broken spirit, her beaten body, her shame, her wounds, her hurt and her survival. What she doesn’t realize is, she’s truly revealing that she is a conqueror, but she has no idea, not yet. She is still coming out of the affects of his gas lighting leaving her to think maybe she is crazy, but she’s not.

There are days she believes what you dear friend tell her with your uplifting words, but when she needs to run the thread down to the core of its root, listen compassionately, respond with love, offer the gift of your presence and allow her the dignity to process and time she needs to get to the other side. The only way for her to get through it, is to go through it, one hour, one day at a time.

When she comes to you, her heart in her hands, be the light in her darkness and a dose of love because she is running on empty. In doing this, you have given her a gift she will cherish and it reminds her she has another fight left in her…

✍🏻🧖🏼‍♀️

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