Abbey Streett
Bio
Life spoken through poetry.
Everything hurts
and nothing is free.
Currently a stay at home mama to two wonderful, crazy kiddos. Finding my voice through poetry, and desperately finding time to read and write.
Stories (45)
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Just For Me
I struggle to share things. I know I am not alone. I started this poem with my husband in mind. We have been married for 12 years and only in the last year did I share with him any of my writing. In the middle of writing this poem, I realized it wasn’t just him I hadn’t shared any of my writing with. My family, my closest friends. No other past relationships. But thinking back on it, that was how I liked it. Like I said only very recently did I start sharing with my family and one close friend about anything I’ve written. I am not sure what drove me to finally do so. I guess I finally began to feel like some of what I was writing was…good? I haven’t had many triumphs in life. I graduated high school, married young, and am now a stay-at-home mom of two beautiful children. Maybe I felt like I needed some other kind of recognition.
By Abbey Streett4 years ago in Confessions
A Body Full of Pain
The scars they did fade eventually, this was true. She glanced down on the top of her forearm where a sliver of a scar used to be visible, almost white in color. Images of the stark white bathroom tile she sat on while sobbing through the noises just beyond the door crossed her mind. Her mother crying faintly, her father screaming ungodly and hurtful words in her face. He could be hurting her, she thought. He probably was. I should call the police, she thought. But she was always too afraid. Fear and anger clouded her thoughts. Anger that her mother allowed herself to be treated this way, fear for her mother, fear for herself. When her sobs calmed down long enough for her to open the sink cabinet from where she sat on the floor, she reached behind the box of tampons and pulled out a small paring knife. The blade was dull, the sharp tip had broken off years ago. Nobody has missed it for as long as it had been missing from the kitchen. This is where she did what she knew was wrong - what was painful in every way, yet as soon as it was over, her breathing had ceased to a normal rate, her tears only steady and few and far between, her sobs finally stopping completely. She sat leaning against the bathroom sink with her eyes closed for a few minutes before she cleaned up the mess. Wet toilet paper to wipe her skin, then balled up and stuffed it in the bottom of the trash can. The knife carefully ran under hot, running water and then quickly stashed back underneath, behind the box of tampons.
By Abbey Streett4 years ago in Humans
My Friendship with The One...
He was that guy. That guy that was always available, but the one I could never have. It's been over 13 years since I last saw him. Even then he was available and yet I was not. The timing never struck right for us. There was always something - there was always someone. But we always kept in touch. Through the years, no matter how many miles between us, whenever he would call, I was there. Whenever I would call, he was there.
By Abbey Streett4 years ago in Confessions
