Sometimes when I least expect it I see his face. My stomach still turns.
I taste his lips, and smell his cologne.
He would kiss me when we were alone at the piano.
The mere fact I can think of it without spiraling between anger, fear or sadness…
A miracle. A happiness. A peace.
My body cringes at the reality of it all but it no longer reels,
because these memories, are no longer real
God’s love has swallowed them whole.
But I do not forget, lest I wake up one day and think they never happened
Which would be worse than insanity yet better than reliving
In slow motion, black and white
Aggressor twenty. Child seven and a half.
And in that moment – men began to inspire awe and fear
A confusing realm of awkwardness
You see at 7 I was even more shy than I am now
He showered me with attention, before the kissing and so of course I respected and trusted him
Yet, he never had to say “don’t say anything” because he knew I wouldn’t
But I hated it, and I hated him for doing it.
So I avoided him, and made sure not to be alone with him
Leaving me trapped, as the hatred found a home in my heart, incubating – feeding on me from inside out.
Here I am saying something that would have brought our house down
Without fear. I can’t be afraid anymore.
I see their faces. Each aggressor. Each manipulator. A row of spades.
Jacks. Kings. Queens.
A royal —– flush
We all see the hand life’s dealt us and we deal the best we can
So I urge you
Don’t rush anyone into intimacy.
For all you know it’s the scariest place on God’s green earth.
Be gentle. Be kind.
You don’t know the scars one holds inside.