You shudder when he comes near sometimes though. Still afraid to trust, still afraid to love. Too many bad memories linger on your harmed skin too many body parts and fingers have been where they should not have been.
So I cave. I become--Silent. Cold. Deadly. Like rain
This pain I was given. This pain I receive. Will no one share this with me? As I lay crying in bed over my ruptured and hurt ovary*?
Seeing you again breaks me open. All the emotions I held back from within
There are some places I cannot visit for they remind me of you. They hold your energy in the room like thick clouds of cigarette smoke. My lungs can’t take it in. I choke.
Langston Hughes once wrote “America was never America to me.” And not much has changed since then. Like a more refined, dressed up pig, America looks beautiful, America looks great...again. The economy booms, but the liberal and conservative fascists loom on. They line our door steps, our Facebook messages, our Twitter pages. Sign this! Agree [...]