Slashes
.taking back an abusive memory you endured and turning it into something you own
I am made up of slashing. Slashes on my face that deepened into a reflection that did not glance back
It ripped into my eyes
I was crying in front of the distortion
Until the smile came creeping back
I am made up of slashes even as I’m healing
Abuse cannot interpret itself into art but my hands hang like a noose as I struggle to grasp onto each memory like a whiplash
A quiet beating
So quiet, like a rape that tried to force itself into love-making with —-
Slashes that became battle scars that plunged into ferocity
You can’t touch one single particle of the slashes you thought you branded on my face
They are not made from you
They are
Me
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Melissa Ingoldsby and writers in Poets and other communities.
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Comments (2)
Gosh, this was so intense, raw, and powerful. Loved your poem. Sending you lots of love and hugs ❤️
I hope its not real, but if it is...i am glad you have made it into a beautiful song that heals your heart. Many are life's trials. Still...life finds a way to heal. Be well Mel.