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Posted by soulconstance , 14 February 2013 · 74 views


Did you forget what I gave you?
My shattered wings frozen to your lips,
fluttered in my mind as you sleep -
little doilies resting on the coffee table she says
they make the world a little more worth
throwing your sadness into a little jar
so that you can tuck it away into the darkness
where it can grow into a friend
that gnaws as your heartstrings,

pulls you a little closer to the edge
of the nothing you made for yourself.
Pulls you a little closer to your death,
that you fantasize in endless wonder
before you reach for the butterflies,
before you achingly let go of the thorns
that expose you to the frost.

"None of these things really matter, you know."

---

Note: This poem is by Heather.


--------------------------



I Knew Better


I cannot trust my heart.
I cannot believe my mind.
I've forgiven them many times.

Through the muck of my nostalgia,
I pulled myself out of your words
and stood upon the mountain, frivolously peering at your soul

I knew the entire time - none of it was real,
but I held on to your friendship through liquor and smoke
begging, begging that you'd be "good".
Begging you'd smile at my jokes, that you'd listen,
that you wouldn't do everything that you have done.

Now you're in a far-off land
and I stand in my cave on the mountain,
the rain drips through the cracks onto my forehead.
I am taunted by their rhythm,
as they remind me time and time again -
on and on I try
and on and on

I fail.

---

How is it that making friends is so difficult, and even harder than that... is making friends you can trust.
Note: This poem is by Q.

--------------------------


I was made flawed, eager and rushed to be part of the world.
I begged, I clawed, I drug myself from the burning embers of childhood
till I found the smoking wreckage of my identity.
It called out,

it reached the gaping chasm of the pit that made up me,
and I found a shaking child, with sweat rolling down his palms,
stuttering to tell me the truth, he grasped his face, spinning in circles
to fight the centrifugal force of my memory,
rubbing, rocking, ripping my skin from my essence,

to shiver from this space that they locked me inside.

I will emerge, a shattered sculpture of glass,
ready to be reglued, recycled, replaced,
till my brilliance is no longer requested, no longer required,

so that I can be the soaking tip of your humanhood.
An otherworlder, I stand, ready to escape all that knew me,
ready to give my soul to the underworld so I may sleep
like I have never slept
without a knife under my pillow,
without a doubt in my mind.
I could pretend that I am just another tragedy in a dream,

only my words breach the gap as I thrash.
I will break under this weight,
I will be ground to dust, and be lost to the winds that carry me.

---

Since all the abuse of our childhood, we have remade ourselves so many times - but we find ourselves in the same place, still trapped somehow... still fighting the truth of our past, still trying to escape.
Note: This poem was written together by Q, Heather, and Oliver.

--------------------------


Test me, tease me, choke me, please me. I'm too drunk with self-deprecation to care what happens to me. I'm too ready to jump over the edge.
Pray the wind will catch me, pray the ocean will break my fall.

---

Sometimes I just want to hurt myself... it's like I go into heat and it's all I want...... if others knew, would they try to save me? I'm sure they're standing by the edge with me, praying I don't jump.
Note: This poem was written together by Marrilyn, Heather, and Q.

--------------------------


2 drinks
An evil kind of happy
Because I don't give a fuck

Drink it up
Drink it up with my blood
Dripping
Dripping
Dripping closer to your dismay
I'd let you save me but I like to sail
Away from your fancy
Away from my memory

Because the storm is more wonderful
When you stand in the rain
And tempt the lightning

---

Note: This poem by Marrilyn.

--------------------------


Once when I was a child
and I drank your sweat
I could hear the thunder cracking inside of me

pulling me further from her grace

why when one day
I became addicted to the screams

---

The abuse when we were children changed us. Slowly I stopped being her and started being me. And when I grew up, it became harder and harder to separate myself from the abuse - it became part of who I am... and with that came masochism, a burning desire to hurt.... because hurt was what I knew.
Note: This poem by Q.


--------------------------

Please don't make the rain come down, cus it's so heavy.
I'd take every bomb, every piano to my headů just to see the sunshine on your face.
She doesn't
She doesn't see the darkness in your light
or the thunder in your darkness
that lights the sky
till we cry out

Oh, how we have loved you with all the hearts we have to bare.


---

Loving an abuser... and knowing that their lover doesn't know just how awful they have been in the past.... feeling like you're the only one that has that secret, and hating yourself because you keep it... and hating yourself because you love them still.
Note: This poem by Heather.


--------------------------


You shared the darkness as we smiled on
it's just another balloon popped in the middle of the show

just another shock to our system

that you are tainted like us
another scar
another parasite to our heart

and we gave you everything

and one day we spread the oil on your face
to taint everything you had seen
and so we left you broken and alone

crying in the storm that they made

that you couldn't see the clouds.


---

About when we came out about the abuse from our brother, and how he denies that he was also abused years before he started hurting us.
Note: This poem by Heather.


--------------------------


Why
oh why
did you take her there

they don't know about how you have hurt the patient and the lovely

how their memories shined
how they were in the sunshine before you

and you took them into the night

and I was left to pick up the pieces.

---

Another one about our brother, about his abuse of a child (of which he was later convicted of) when we were teenagers, and about how no one knows (besides certain members of the family)... and we mourn for her lost innocence.
Note: This poem by Heather.


--------------------------

My lovely,

like a stuffed animal
you seemed
to have no harm inside of you so I trusted
every little spark
till I remembered
and then I knew years beyond as they ran like horses

trampling my dreams

and I knew

I knew that you were just like the soldiers in the crusade
bloodied reason
ringing through

but now they see you as an angel
and I know your demon inside gnawing
at my heartstrings

yet they blame me.

---

A mixture of the backlash from coming out about our feelings about our brother and the abuse... knowing just what he's capable of, when for years we lied for him, we stole for him, we hid his truths... and we tried to believe that he was just a victim and not an abuser, but now when we talk about what happened... no one believes us, no one cares, and we're the one left to blame because we spoke up.
Note: This poem by Heather.


--------------------------


Copywrite Soulconstance aka Quin aka Me.



Trigger Warning

Warning: Some of my poetry and prose may be triggering. I write just about as much about survivor issues as I do about love.
Please keep yourself safe.

August 2014

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