Rachel Finch awes me with her raw truth
Mentally, I am far below the plane of my earthly existence. It’s been years since the abuse, yet it’s fresh in my face; unlaced.
The bold I held in me, far from view, my subconcious dragging the past into the present with nowhere to run.
I lay still, beside a body that will not wake, alone in the dark with nothing but my thoughts and the shadows.
I had buried his face, hidden it beneath who I had become, but he’d returned, uninvited, imposing on the Me i’d fought to be.
Trees rustle beyond layers of walls, the ones I built around myself at eight years old, the ones that house my body and my fear; brick invisibility.
It’s too early for the birds but i’m praying for their singing to fill the silence.
Panic creeps into my pores, stifling my breath, stiffening the body that’s stayed tense.
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