#poetry about trauma

[sweetsweetperil]

Ribbon and lace

Wrapped around my waist,

So tight I can barely breathe

Take the air right out of me,

Slowly, softly,

I beg you,

Please

[poemsonmars]

my doctor wants me to

write about my trauma,

as if the thought alone

doesn't make me physically sick.

as if i don't spend every poem

trying not to write about him.

i don't want to write about

how he's still controlling my life.

how even all these years,

and all these miles later,

all it takes is someone

mentioning his name

to make me nauseous.

and angry. and terrified.

i am tired of being terrified.

she asks me where in my body

i feel the trauma the most

and i tell her everywhere.

i tell her if it was

localized to one area,

i would have cut it off by now.

i feel it everywhere.

like when you take too deep

of a breath and everything hurts

for a minute, but indefinitely.

i don't know what i did

to hurt indefinitely.

-mars

[western-fence-lizard]

rah rah healing from trauma etc (wip)

[aseelayelia99]

I am only a Woman

I begged you to love me and your answer was my cries.

And now that I’ve packed my bags you’re rambling about our highs.

As you throw shit around and yell that I am hostile.

But I don’t wanna start a war. I wanna get back my smile.

Don’t know if it’s a breakdown or a breakthrough, but something in me is broken,

And I can’t heal when around, you I am frozen.

Bleeding lips.

Stepping on my fingertips.

Waiting for my slips.

Your lies are pretty like the colors you splattered on my face.

Your eyes linger as you tell everyone you love me, just in case.

I have never seen someone hate the one they love this much.

I hate that no one sees me flinch at your touch.

Don’t beg on your knees and think that everything will be forgiven.

God loves unconditionally, but I am only a woman.

Inspired by a writing prompt posted by @betweenthetimeandsound

[honeyednotes]

Untitled

you have no idea of the hells I have walked through to be standing here in front of you

I did not want to burden you with my scars, old and faded like a line on a dusty chalkboard, but they still cause me so much pain

when they flare up, coping mechanisms slip in unnoticed, until I realize that I have been three feet behind my body for days

I force back into myself, like fitting a glass slipper on an ugly stepsister, but it doesn't take long to remember why I left

anxieties accost me from all angles until I reopen the door and sneak back out, overwhelmed, and the cycle repeats itself

by Brie Thomson

[shewritestheyread]

settled

I settle into my pain 

He settles into the couch 

comfortable numbness is my mercy 

and his liberator 

for why would I speak 

when not spoken to 

why would I fight 

when he knows I won’t win 

why would I run 

when he knows

he will catch me 

escape is a dream 

he won’t let me sleep 

[imbadatparking]

OBSERVATIONS MADE ON THE CAR RIDE HOME 4/18/23

gorillaz is singing don't be sad for me in my ears

the sun is in my eyes

i'm tired

my brother says to me you look skinnier

the force of gravity is pushing me side to side. when i close my eyes, i no longer exist

there's dogs in the backseat that BARK BARK BARK everytime anyone comes near

my stepmother called and my brother's girlfriend asked if everything was okay and i said yeah, course

the car bluetooth is not connected, the silence is too much, even though i have my earbuds in

the car stops and stalls on top of a hill. my brother restarts it. we keep driving

my sister sends me a text. it's a snapchat reel.

the wind is howling

i need to let go

[carehouse18]

twinkle around my wrists

i want to eat the stars

consume their cores and melt their fires into beads.

i want to gather the beads and weave them together with cord

and carry them around my wrists.

i want to fidget with the stars, feel them warm

my cold heart as i stumble

and feel the weight of them to ground me

to a planet they outshone.

i want to be burned so kindly by

something i choose, instead of being scarred

by blindsides and fists on counters

because i am so over it.

i want to be selfish just this once

and feel them twinkle around my wrists,

so that one day, before a slice becomes a scar,

i’ll be able to unleash the stars.

[thedarkmaidenn]

Poetry Prompt: careless arms

I was indecisive while naming this poem. At first, I was going to title it “The Dark Maiden”. The Dark Maiden was coined by the late Shekhinah Mountainwater. In her book, Ariadnes Thread, she shares her idea of there being a fourth aspect to the triple Goddess. The fourth aspect being the Dark Maiden. The Bright Maiden waxes, the Mother is Full, the Dark Maiden wanes and the Crone goes dark. She mentions how every young woman enters adulthood as one of the two Maidens. The Bright Maiden is who we know the Maiden to be. She is fire, spring, eager to take on the world, fearless and she has a masculine way about her. The Dark Maiden is water, fall, careful, deeply emotional and she has a more feminine way about her. The Dark Maiden is the twisted feminine energy that takes a long time to heal. Her childhood was rough, she was placed in careless arms. So she enters her adulthood with many burdens that she must unpack all by herself. I am a Dark Maiden. A dark maiden on her journey to uncovering her bright self, because a bright maiden does exist within the spirit of every Dark Maiden. This poem reflects the making of a Dark Maiden.

I chose Of The Night because more people might be able to relate to such a title. There are many children of the night in this world, and this title seemed the most fitting.

[alyssacarry]

[sweetsweetperil]

If you cannot escape it,

As it will always be a part of you,

What do you do

When the bruises heal

But the pain lingers and continues to bloom?

[desiarthoe]

The girl with the purple eyeshadow was looking at me. the traffic had just let up and she was sat with someone else on her rushing rickshaw, the puller struggling a big against my own, having had to lug three passengers on a two-seater. That is why when my rickshaw pulled up to hers, she still had time to take a long look at me. Her purple dress was shimmering in the sun.

Her eyes were adorned with shimmery purple eyeshadow, to match her dress. She couldn't have been any older than 13, staring at a rickshaw parallel to hers. Another woman just like her, except where's the matching eye shadow to her dress? Where's the joy in her face? She is travelling by herself, the young girl's mother still won't allow her that, shouldn't that be reason enough to be happy?

so she stares at the girl with the sunken eyes and lips that look like they had been bitten to hold back tears. Her hair seems like it hadn't been washed in days, hair that hasn't seen the caress of a lover in a while. She stares at the other end of the proverbial mirror, in the few minutes it takes the older girl's rickshaw to cross her, losing a soul into the metropolitan fray. I hope that girl, doesn't lose the hope that makes her put on eyeshadows and stare at strangers, wondering why don't they look the same as her.

[crush-echoes]

no matter what, i constantly get excluded, maybe i should just give up on trying to be worth anything to people

[flowersandfashion]

The opposite of a haunting is something very lonely, Katie Maria /// there's a little girl in my head, @heavensickness /// Little Girl Looking Downstairs at Christmas Party (1964) by Norman Rockwell /// Changing, Liv Ullmann /// found photograph with my words /// what they don't tell you, @tryworks /// Anne with an E, A Strong Effort of the Spirit of Good (3x07) /// Time Travel by Emhahee /// Second Wave (2023) by Amy Dury /// Katie Maria

[honeyednotes]

Frostbite

I hear my family's accounts of how single incidents have caused them long-term suffering: the sting of frostbite haunts my mother's fingers after last winter, the sun's poison still lurks in my grandmother's veins threatening to consume her

we are each bound by so much trauma, wrapped so tightly we insist we cannot feel the fractures

but they recur much more frequently than we believe

and they run so much deeper than we know, icebergs we are bound to run into at some point or another

healing takes such careful delicacy, it is impossible if you do not realize you are hurt to begin with

each of us is intrinsically covered with wounds of various depths, and it is our duty now to dress them

rid them of maggots and rot

clean away neglected gangrene and finally

heal

by Brie Thomson

[shewritestheyread]

Depression

It brings the loneliness in with the tide 

It buries me in the sand

The rage of water fills my lungs

I am a drift and drowning