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#ptsd poetry
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quimbyflether · 12 days
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I loved him, In tangled sheets, and half asleep.
he loved, the stranger beside him, a beautiful disaster, he thought he could keep.
with a soul too wild, to be chained to him. she dreamed, of paradise.
He craved control, and the thought of forever, touching his own lies.
We're Not Lovers
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Safety Glass Memories
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deer333teeth · 1 month
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He asks me what love is.
I tell him it is something soft, and warm, and bright. I think of the stars that burst behind my eyelids when I take a hit, or drag a blade between gnarled skin, or when he runs his fingertips across my back.
I ask him what love is.
He says he doesn’t know.
I wonder how it can be that he is the one with no answer, yet he is the only one who says it.
I ask him if it’s sex.
He says no. Far from it.
I agree.
He says sex is…just a way to be close to someone. To touch them.
I stay silent.
He does not ask me what sex is.
I think, sex is just power. It is anger. It is a tool to beat those things into someone. Into me. It is a reliving of the same death again and again and again. To me sex has never been anything but a reminder. A reminder of what I’ve always been and always will be. It doesn’t feel good. It shoves me backwards into muffled memories and open wounds. It doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t feel fair. But it does feel right. It feels like I am doing what I’m supposed to do. Sex returns me to the truth. I deceive everyone around me. I have built a person around this thing. I have hidden this reproachful creature and lied to bury it. Sex unearths it. It forces me to be seen as I am. It reminds me how to turn off. How to float away. How to go limp and how to cede. How to die.
I think he knows.
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11-30 12:09pm
I lay with my rotted regrets
Bent nails and broken hearts
Shift through simple solicitors
And foster my hatred for lovers
Many in number and few in importance
I await a purpose
Please touch and then push me away
So I can learn what it truly means to be a tool
Left to rust in an abandoned shed
With little use besides an easy job done
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ow-writing · 2 months
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Today I found your letter.
I opened the white envelope
With my name scrawled on the front
Anticipating a forgotten love letter
Instead I found an apologetic confession
Typed and printed
Signed with your name
A laugh of disbelief escaped my lips
As I read with fresh eyes
The words that remind me
That you were just a child
I imagine your mother instructing you
To sit at the keyboard until there is more
Than an “I’m sorry” on the page
- O. Wells
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imaginarylungfish · 3 months
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alizjay · 4 months
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TW: mention of CSA & SH
People say that I'm resilient and they say that I am strong.
No one else with my trauma would have a marriage last this long.
How am I not an alcoholic? How are my kids doing well?
Well, I'll tell you people, it has nothing to do with strength, but a conditioned fear of hell.
How did I do so well in school and be successful in my career? How can I keep my bills paid on time? It's because of that voice in my ear...
That bullies me into submission when I make a small mistake.
It's nothing but sheer terror in people finding out I'm a fake.
I never got to fall apart like most traumatized kids do
Until I began to remember at age 35 what my daddy made me do!
I never felt safe as a child
or a brand new wife and mom whose insides were going wild.
Because my body & my brain stem knew what my memory did not.
That very early in my life, I was damaged and emotionally thrown out to rot...
By the same person who said I could not make mistakes,
By the man who helped me with math and taught me to balance on roller skates.
How can the man who worked 2, and sometimes 3, jobs to keep food on our table
Be a monster in the bathroom with his little girl before I was even able...
To fight back, to argue back, to understand what was happening?
I guess that's why I have this habit of spacing out and disassociating
From the people i love when they're stressing me out,
Why even as an adult I revert back to a kid and pout
When I don't get my way
When I'm left out for the day.
That bastard BROKE MY BRAIN and then convinced me that I was okay.
"Little girl, you're lucky that your mom & dad still kiss. I work hard just to provide for you. You're just mad that we're not rich.
Be grateful for all God's given us, girl. Your parents could be addicts.
We could be homeless. We give you everything you need 'cause we're such good parents.
So turn that frown upside down or I'll clean your mouth with soap
For talking sass back to your mom. Why complain when Jesus is our hope?"
No dad, not anymore, not ever, all your words do is make me feel panic.
You make me want to cut myself or pretend to be perfectly happy and manic.
But as much as you gave me a listening ear when I'd cry about bullies at school,
You didn't give a rat's ass about my feelings at all, you just said, "sweetheart, life isn't about being cool."
I FUCKING HATE YOU, DAD!!!!!!!!!
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reframing God
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sunshine-shards · 2 months
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He sinks his teeth into you for the last time.
His barks and yelps have grown more and more irritating.
Despite your best efforts to rehabilitate him, there is no hope in sight.
So, when his teeth draw blood, you grab him by the neck.
You take his leash you’ve so finely crafted over the years and clip it to him.
He yelps and cries, telling you he’s sorry.
But this is your last straw.
You drag him outside, tie him up to the post.
On your way out, he thought it was strange you stopped at the safe.
Metal clinks against itself, and you point the barrel at him.
He cries, shoving his face into the ground. His last attempt at an apology.
The kickback forces you to the ground.
Aren’t you humiliated?
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quimbyflether · 12 days
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I am dressed, in imperfections and flaws. Naked, I am in love with every scar, that represents my strength.
Bathed in vulnerability, I sensed a gentle shift, inviting me in from the rain. A familiar presence, lays beside me as I sleep.
I let go of the touch, that stained my skin, and tore apart my mind. Rising from, the depths of, her impure attachment.
He wears the chains, that shackle him to her. It’s an exhausting tug of war, so violating and sacrilegious, he is her own mirror image.
In my journey to self-love, I let go of him and, the woman I never was. Dressed in my insecurities, she tried desperately, to attach herself to me.
Through the prodigal son, she praises in public spaces, while privately scolding, all who refuse to submit, to her transactional love of, vitriol and self-hatred.
Feverishly, they work, to align an image, that neither glistens, nor shines.
I stood there all alone, as they took turns, shaming me into silence. Ours was a marriage, of two souls intertwined.
With all that I had left, a few boxes of personal belongings, and the clothes on my back. I stepped aside, and left him, with the woman he craved, who wasn’t his wife.
Mother Knows Best
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abbywants2write · 6 months
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My lips move wordlessly
Or seemingly it is so
Maybe I am screaming
But deaf ears don’t know
My heart beats righteously
A rhythm so full of love
For all the things in life
I am unworthy of
A sense of urgency
Hesitation to think
Missing feeling alive
Flooding the kitchen sink
Tears fall like acid rain
Drowning the ants below
But I do hope you’re okay
You always hated being alone
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zombybonezz · 9 months
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I hate sex.
I never wanna have sex again.
I hate bodies, the feeling of skin, flesh, meat.
I don't want to be touched.
I don't need to be touched, I don't need to be loved.
I need to scream, I need to punch you, I need to tear my hair out.
I need to throw up, I need to cry, I need to hate you.
I need to be free, I need to run, I need to dream.
But I'm not allowed to punch you, I'm not allowed to scream, I'm not allowed to hate you, I'm not allowed to run.
I'm not allowed to be free.
I think I need to hate you right now, I think I need to scream right now.
I think I need to climb up on our mountain, I think I need to punch myself in the face, I think I need to throw myself around while I'm screaming.
I think I need to rage.
I need to tear my hair out and rip off my nails. I need to kick out my teeth and stab myself in the heart. I need to swallow plastic and choke myself to death. I need to dance and sing. I need to cut off the parts of me that don't belong here. And I need you to understand. I need you to be mine.
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