Keira’s teeth pressed against my neck and I arced, pushing my breast into her palm. Her fingers drew a line down the swell of my mound and I wiggled away from them, pressing against her. I’d had orgasm after orgasm, my clit pulsed, but I knew she would make me come again. “Again, Cindy.” Her voice was rich, firm, and there’s no room for argument. My cunt squeezed and I was wetter still at her certainty. I nodded and arched, reaching back over my shoulder for her. Her grip on my breast shifted.
i once lived life with my hands covering my head
afraid to look up, scared of what it would bring,
swallowed grey skies,
grey bloated on emptiness that consumed,
dying, dying, i lived for him, lived to appease his moods,
trod perpetual eggshell floor,
cowered from myself,
coward to hisselfserving eyes,
wake to doom. steamed cars starving at night
bowed to his alter,
i, an alienated abscess of ache,
identity splintered. groin congealed. neckracked.
afraid to move in bed. petrified to get up. and out.
fear fed and fallow fucks
i went to the mountain i cried in the cemetery,
i sensed solitude made friends with death
stem cell sympathy void of vision
i watched other couples, jealous of their normality
walked on invisible enmity,
dreamt of old age aloneness of passivity,
i lived with my hands sheltering my head
a threat of violence born from insecurity
dripfed days and hands holding nothing
constantly stuck in silence,
stuck, stuttered, sunk like stones under water
i held my breath,
i hid a seed beneath the concrete
i planted a sun under the stairs
i inked a poem to the stars
stitched words into secret places
I don’t believe it. Listen, it is quiet, calm. I can feel the sunlight on my face and not feel guilty anymore, I can hear the trains go through the tunnel and not feel I want to jump in front of one, anymore.
I can feel the rise and fall of my breathing and not want to choke from the snap of a rope upon my neck, anymore. I look around our home. Feel the bookshelves whisper answers. Touch the photos that paint our lives. Sense the stillness that bursts with life.
Plan tomorrow, yeah, see tomorrow we’re going to walk right to the top of the mountain, you can see for miles there, I hope it’s a nice day… I think it will be… tomorrow… We sleep. We wake. We have breakfast. We wash. We dress. We tidy the house. We make sandwiches… We walk the mountain, tomorrow, yes tomorrow.
See, when someone hits you, pushes you down the stairs, tells you that you are nothing, isolates you from family, makes day to day life unbearable, you, you start to believe in some glorious afterlife, a place of flowers not fists, of peace not hate… and you almost give up living… but I know there is no such place… that’s what abuse does to you makes you lose faith that there is order and continuity in life.
So you start to believe in some fucking invisible entity where you’ll be cared for unconditionally, but that’s what the abuser wants you to do so they can continue doing what they do best… destroying every part of you…
But that was yesterday and on that day when I finally said no, no, no more—I closed the door, his door and I walked to the sunlight and it was my sunlight and I exhaled for the first time in years, and today, for the first time, I know there is a tomorrow. I bow to godless alter of unified skin and skynourished bodies. The wind severs branches to launch seeds to new soil, then so have I, been broken to grow fresh life, somewhere else. My hands by my sides. There is love. There is order. There is continuity… there is me… and there is you…