i’m not scared
of the monsters

hidden underneath
my bed.

i’m much more scared
of the boys

with messy brown hair,
sleepy eyes,

& mouths
that only know

how to form
half-truths.

it took
losing him
to finally
find
myself.

It took
losing him
a second time
to be sure
of myself.

that
was my
first act
of
self-love.

i
let myself
know
that my life
doesn't
have to be over
just because
theirs are
& i went
ahead
& painted
the sun
back into
my sky.
I am allowed to live my life.

over the decades
her books became
such a part
of her

that
the ink
somehow escaped
her veins & bloomed
her favorite
words & images
onto her skin.

now
the world
would have
no doubt:

she
was the
pagebound
girl- page to skin

That is what abuse is:
knowing you are
going to get salt
but still hoping for sugar
for nineteen years.

just because they don’t hit you doesn’t mean it isn’t abuse.   wouldn’t you think it a crime to look up at the night sky & tell the stars that they have no sparkle?   guess what? you shine brighter than all the starlight there has ever been or ever will be.   - emotional abuse is still abuse.