Help

I’m not seeking attention.

I want someone to say I’m beautiful
because I can’t say I’m beautiful.

I want someone to want me,
because I don’t want me.

I’m not fishing for compliments.

I just want to hear someone say something nice
so I can believe it for awhile.

Because sometimes the voices I hear
prolong their stay, reminding me that I don’t deserve the time of day.

I am being irrational.
You don’t need to say it again, I know.
But sometimes knowing something doesn’t keep the doubt away.

Sometimes I doubt myself, doubt that I worth anything at all.
I know I am, but it’s hard to tell myself that.

It’s not a cry for help.
I’m getting help, but it takes time.

I don’t wanna hear you tell me I should be better already,
I’m not.
I have good days and bad days and sometimes the bad days outnumber the good.

I’m sorry I’m needy.
But if you really want to help me,
you have to know that I’m scared to be alone.

Please don’t leave me!

back to Anxiety

Consent

Lips on cheeks,
fingers in hair,
hands on hips,
floating on air.

Fingers caressing,
butterfly feelings,
ideas of loving
sound so appealing.

One is not ready
and feels alone.
She says, “I think
it’s time to go home.”

“Not now, not yet,”
the other replies,
gripping her wrists
as down they lie.

She doesn’t want to
be touched, undressed.
But frozen in fear
as on her, they’re pressed.

Isn’t this normal?
Isn’t this right?
Doesn’t she want this?
So why doesn’t she fight?

And when she leaves,
body all sore,
she doesn’t fight back
against the hug at the door.

back to Breakthrough

Recovery

One step at a time,
but sometimes I can’t find my footing.

One day at a time,
but they pass too quickly with little progress
and growing hopelessness.

One moment at a time,
but time is a construct reminding everyone they are too busy.

One thought at a time,
but they swarm like bees
in my overworked brain without
the sweet tasting silence that it needs.

Why is recovery so tedious and slow?
How can pain be so sudden, yet
healing last a lifetime?

When I look at my timeline and the progress I’ve made,
I have no more room.
The achievements are few on my page.

Recovery takes a lifetime.
A sacrifice for ones better self.
Time and effort to heal and accept that wrong things can be made right.

back to Breakthrough

Tidal Wave

You engulfed me with power,
coercion,
as your body covered mine,
took over mine,
I struggled against the undertow.
Still, the current carried me away
from my body.
Separated from myself,
watching from the lighthouse,
unable to save the ship
from the coming tidal waves
crashing against the rocks below-
the rubble of out love.

back to Breakthrough

Handprints

The imprints left behind
from a night went wrong,

bruises on my arms
from grips held too long.

Embraces were mistaken
for a loving touch,
and a smothering kiss
for when I spoke too much.

“We’ve been together for awhile,”
is one of your arguments.
You think I owe you everything
simply because you give me compliments,

but I’m not your present,
your gift for suffering so long.
Just because we disagree
doesn’t mean that I am wrong.

You said, “I don’t think I can wait,”
but what does that mean?
You only have a few options:
cheat, break up or assault me.

So you decide the latter,
you smother me and moan.
My soul watches on the sidelines,
as my body is no longer my own.

It wasn’t my choice,
it wasn’t my mistake.
you had no right to not ask before you take
because it’s not just my body that breaks.

You see, you can’t undo this,
even if you tried.
There is no reset button;
healing takes time,
especially when you took what was mine.

back to Breakthrough