MY STORY


The poetry on this page was written by a survivor during the course of her healing journey. Due to the very nature of sexual abuse, some of these may be very triggering to some survivors so take care of yourself.

All of the poetry on this page is copyrighted and must not be used in any form without the express consent of the author. If you have a question or a comment about this poetry, you can email Chell at fastface_fellow@yahoo.com

FOURTEEN MINUTES, THIRTYSEVEN SECONDS Eight hundred seventy-four seconds In the scheme of life Not long at all The second hand didnt stop and Neither did you You plunged your way through my life, My pride, My virginity You used my silence And held my hostage in my own skin The pictures on the wall They were fresh and new A life just waiting to happen I could have walked away from you You know I tried I thought: Out of reach would be far enough away You would find a new obsession I had been it long enough Maybe you would walk away But the prize called you back Touching me wasnt enough You had to ruin me for me The mirror is unkind It doesnt touch up what I see when I look into its eyes Fourteen minutes Just long enough to make it last forever Its been forever ago Why cant I just walk away LORD knows you did, Will you make your time count somewhere else again? Some other girl Some other time Some other eight hundred seconds June 2001

Why arent you sorry? Your hands were on me, Even with the turtleneck covering my head You dreamed about me, When I was jailbait You touched me when she was showering, Why arent you sorry? And I dont mean those crocodile tears You called remorse You shed to keep me silent And I dont mean those apologies You gave when I caught your lies You are sorry to keep me silent But you were never sorry enough to be honest Never sorry enough to get help Never sorry enough to quit You knew that my virginity was my only possession You had no right to it I never gave it to you But you believed that in your divorce You could hurt me You said you were hurting and angry But you did not stop to think where you would leave me Why arent you sorry? I am June 2001

My blindness You were strong You wanted me know You wanted me to tell you how strong you were I thought that if I did not challenge you If I did doubt your strength You would not to prove it and I would not have to pay for it You were suave You always wanted me to tell you how fine you were You were angry because I called you vain You were you know You were the vainest person Id ever met The problem was you were also mean and easily angered You wanted me to feel violated and weak I thought if you knew I was scared If I didnt compete with you for power If I didnt make you prove you were someone not to be reconded with You would have no need to prove it My blindness was self-inflicted I was blind because I chose to be I was blind to your true nature I thought deep down you were a good man You were just angry and That was my doing I still have to believe that it was you and not me Or my clothes Or my mannerisms Or being at the wrong place with you Or letting you in my life I am not blind anymore I see your crime now Do you? Do you see how weak you really are? What did violating me really prove? That you are violent and mean I AM NOT BLIND ANYMORE WHAT A MIRACLE THAT IS June 2001

PERSONAL NOTE: Chell, thank you so much for allowing me to use your work. It shows a glimpse into who you were, and also who you have become. You are so dear to my heart and I love you. Hugs~Nita