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

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

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.

Where
do all the
memories go,
the ones we
hide away
with
lock &
key yet
continue
to shape
us all the
s  a  m  e?
 
- did it really happen if i can’t remember it?