books, writings, shoes & nudes

Tag: domestic violence

  • arthritis

    sharp pain shoots up my hand reaching my fingertips. it’s a particularly rough pain day. remember when you snapped my fingers like a carrot. they dangled there. you did it multiple times within 5 years. the knuckles don’t even exists anymore.

    i don’t take deep breaths without gasping. hiccups are a repetitive shock to my system. tears blur my eyes with every little blip. stops me in my tracks. remember when you gave me cpr when i didn’t need it.

    remember when you held me under the water until the bubbles stopped. my sternum still clicks in and out like your palms are still pressing. you never really let me go.

    collarbones pinned under your kneecaps as your open hands struck my kidlike face until they cracked unable to hold your weight. not stopping until I begged “like the annoying bitch you are”. and I begged. every single time. i begged my last with you.

    no one knows about the bald spot hidden in my perfect hair, your second favorite handle. i will forever have a side part.

    the body you had no right to wreck hurts more in the cold. little acts of rebellion like hating socks and not wearing gloves. spite warming the blood. i hate that our days together linger on my being most in the morning.

  • hsk&t

    Head.

    These memories would cut you and leave you bleeding on the floor.

    Throat.

    These scars would traumatize you and make you incapable of grasping reality.

    Ribs.

    These broken bones would tell you the story you never asked to hear.

    Scars. Memories. Broken bones. Voice. Passion. Intuition.

  • use it as a weapon

    You’re welcome for making you strong. I created the trauma you are profiting off of now. Without the cries, pain, and fear where would you be? You should be thanking me. You should be grateful I still show up in your dreams to keep you from forgetting. I’ll never let you lose your edge or passion because I’ll never leave.

    Use it all. Use all those loud emotions in the quiet lonely times. It’s the only weapon I’ll ever allow you to have. It’s the weapon you’ll never get rid of. Just remember who taught you how to use it.

  • dear weak-minded lindsey,

    I thought about writing this 1 million times, but I guess since She’s making me, now is a better time than ever. (PS: you blame Her for a lot of things, so you don’t have to think about you.)

    I know you’re scared, and alone, confused, and pissed. You have no idea who I am or that you’re capable of becoming me.

    I’m sorry for letting this happen to you. For choosing this for you. For us. I’m sorry it got so far. I knew those choices were the wrong ones, but I ignored them. I should’ve saved you way earlier, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t fight my way out yet. I wasn’t strong enough. I need you to hold on. Hold on because I promise it’s worth it and you do make it out of this. I so badly want to pick you up and hold you and tell you about the world you eventually create. You’re loved, like real, healthy, not scared loved. Like the kind of love you’ve had to work hard for. And he’s your best friend. You laugh all the time. You have a home and it’s safe. It’s your favorite place to be. You’re close with your family again. And our friends, oh Lindsey, our friends are amazing. You help people, women like you right now. You’re funny and people like you. You’re a business owner and Lindsey you’re strong, you’re so so strong and you don’t ever question that. And girl you’re happy. Like legit happy.

    It’s there and you’re gonna decide it’s yours. Just keep it together and keep your eyes open. We’re in this together.

    I love you kid.

    Love,

    Strong Lindsey.