One Day. One Story.
A Lifetime of Healing.
One.
A story among many.
Darkness, anger, and survival,
memories bleed through,
flickering from one memory to the next
turning the mundane,
every day into a nightmare.
I am ripped from the present
to the past of
anguish and despair
secrets that are
buried within,
the muffled cries
forcing the silence.
I am quiet no more.
I will no longer keep this secret.
I will no longer be trapped in
yesterday’s nightmare.
Still Life: A Moment & Poem of Memories
I am fascinated by memories. As something with complex PTSD, I have intrusive memories. Snippets of a time past that force themselves into my present, pushing me back into the past.
Compromising Myself for Love?
Compromise happens all the time. There are compromises that you don’t have to think about and ones that take a bit more time to ponder. And then, you have to factor in the reason for the compromise. So that is an essential piece of compromise too.
Proof? You Ask For Proof?
I have no proof, no evidence. Of course, I don’t because no one listened. And now that evidence is gone. Or is it? I realize how much evidence I have within me and how I react and interact with the world. This poem is about contending with all the evidence I carry with me.