It was a quiet night
And rain fell
Harshly.
Droplets hit my skin like acid,
Burning through me.
Tearing my arms
And legs
And neck.
I wondered how the raindrops
Could be better than his hands
When they both
Hurt
So
Much.
Lightning struck
Infusing my brain
With the memories
That used to be reality.
They left me shaking,
Gasping for air.
As if his hands were around my throat again- it could happen.
I crawled up to the mirror,
But quickly stumbled back.
It wasn’t me.
Her hair.
Her eyes.
Her skin.
Were all mine
But they were untainted
Still untouched
Unchanged.
Did I really ever
Look like
That?
Did I really ever
Feel like
That?
I sat alone with a strange girl.
Fingers reached into my mind
As I struggled to find a picture of the girl
Some sort of evidence
Of a time that was.
Before.
In the musty hallways
With rusty frames
And happy pictures
I found my fountain pen.
The one given as a gift
From my mother on my tenth birthday.
Grasping tightly,
Hands shaking,
I pulled it out.
I began to cover her with ink.
Recalling the words
That had been taken from me.
Ink flowed.
Love, hate
Honesty.
Flowing freely from the tip of my pen.
Over my scars,
A testament to her untorn skin.
The words of caution attempting to penetrate
The inpenatrable time.
My hands grasping her flesh,
Reaching out to her
Trying to reach the mind I knew
Was about
To be
Shattered against the kitchen counter
Pounded into the walls
Stolen.
On her neck,
The words she wished she could say on her own.
“You don’t own me
Anymore.”
“I’ve found my voice
Again.”
“My heart is bigger
Now.”
On the bruises,
A lesson on respect
Advocacy
Self- love.
A redaction of guilt.
On her feet,
Still rubbed raw by rough cement
And bike pedals,
Tales of newfound
Freedom.
I took a step back.
And saw myself again.
I was covered in bruises
And scars.
I ran my fingers over them
They were familiar
I was home.I am home.
Heart Valentine Sad Broken Broken Heart Love Girl. Digital image. N.p., n.d. Web. 25 May 2017.