Post Trauma

My memory started fading at 15

I couldn’t decipher between the voices in my head lulling me asleep

Pulling me further into the ocean’s depths closer to death

And the voices of everyone around me

Trying to extract the bugs I felt crawling under my skin

Was easier than admitting I wanted to keep living

I stopped checking for bruises she may have left after the first six months

People ask me why I shy away from their touch

Why I flinch at what seems like everything

But I’d rather erase 2 years of my history because the girl who decided physical violence was an adequate “thank you”

Doesn’t deserve to be named

Or any space in my memory

Being 13 is difficult for anyone

I guess that was my excuse for her actions

I keep living because then she doesn’t win

Yet the shells and rubble left behind feels like she already has

I swallowed the bullet she shot at me in staying silent

This skin still feels alien

Patience is a virtue when it comes to recovery

Everyone who is trying to help me,

Telling you is nearly impossible

It feels like flames and buried memories

That are better left dead


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