I, am a swirling collection of empty pieces.
Jagged edges, and curved spines, some broken by the very hands that glued them back together, Some loved tenderly by another who kisses me so softly before bed I sometimes fear he is a dream that I haven’t woken up from, yet.
I am an empty vessel, doors open, waiting for my pieces to be taken, and returned, it is a never ending cycle, the taking and returning. So much so that I do not remember what being full feels like. I was full before, before they picked my bones dry and slid their fingers into me. Before he held me down and forced open my legs and ribs and picked out what he saw fit .
I was, whole once. I am, becoming whole again. But I cannot forget the sour on my tongue, even though he makes everything else taste so god damed sweet. It is living there, in the back of my throat, where another forced something down it, and unearthed an ocean of pain I have come to never forget. An ocean filled with blood, sweat, and tears that fell from the sky of my eye lids like asteroids hailing down unto the earth. That feeling lives inside my marrow, and he is the one that placed it there. The one who held me down, and stole every last good thing I had, living inside of my lungs.
He has yet, to return my pieces.
“Eyelids like asteroids hailing down unto the earth.” Fantastic!
I get almost the image of the female Frankenstein with this piece. I like it.
This is an intense write. Lots of raw emotion and great metaphors.
It’s hard to comment on writes like these because of the subject matter.
Brave write
Oh goddess, this feels so agonizingly familiar. That kind of damage leaves us so afraid to trust the good moments, the sweet touches, the gentle words. Because those things were once used as weapons. This bleeds vulnerability and honesty all over the page. You are heard…
Every single word is a mirror, girl. And everything Willow said. You’re seen and heard, understood, welcomed and among friends. You have a village and family here.