CHELL'S POETRY


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 reckoned 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

LESS THAN NOW
Reach into me,
find my heart:
Pull it out, please.
Don't leave it there for me to ruin.
I will,
You know.
I do everything else and it is just setting there,
unguarded...
Hearts less vulnerable now
But just my genes alone make it possible,
you sit there stroking my hair,
and I want to strangle you,
or me which ever I reach first...
Some people are just born impossible
and contact with other humans does not improve there situation...

spring 1993


CHELL'S POETRY PAGE TWO


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



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