I spoke for the first time after 8 years.
8 years of silence unbroken
Broken in two minutes of regret.
8 years of pain
8 years of torture
One moment intensified and replayed
o v e r and o v e r and o v e r
The moment that took 8 years to forget but one second to remember.
He did it to me.
No consent, I was a child.
My innocence stolen without remorse.
Why was I the one to feel disgust?
He broke every ounce of trust.
Internally I screamed and cried.
I even wished I had died.
Once the silence was broken
there was no going back, like I’d used my last token.
Years from me taken
only with the hope that he’d awaken
And realize what he’d caused.
A life full of self-hatred, unaroused.
He left me in scraps, no longer pure.
That’s why they don’t want me, I’m sure.
I’d search until the end of the world for a fix
But they don’t even want me to be in the mix.
So I sit here confused
Wondering why my pain was his muse.
8 years later
8 years later. I’m back in the lavender-walled room.

Leave a Reply

%d bloggers like this: