girlintroubles:

similar posts here
"It’s so strange that autumn is so beautiful; yet everything is dying."

— (via impactings)

(Source: impactings, via shut-up-lex)

I really wanna write a poem

but I have zero energy and Laura’s “prompt” is really shitty and leaves me barely anything to explore. Here’s to hoping she comes up with a better one by the weekend.

Seeing V tomorrow morning. Yay! Better get some sleep then!

beautyinthebellejar:

More memorabilia from the august incident

beautyinthebellejar:

More memorabilia from the august incident

acswaclinicalsocialwork:

· 1 in 3 women is sexually assaulted, but it seems more like 2.9 out of 3. In my work setting, there are weeks when every single one of my female clients is living with some form of sexual assault. I was floored and my spirit bruised.

· Sometimes clients…

(via navigatingsocialwork)

Stained Sheets Full of Memories

Sitting on the cold bare concrete

Wrapped naked in stained sheets

Breathing in the scent of night

Memories surround her

Haunting her by fright.

Nothing will ever be the same

Except for all the pain that comes from inside of her

Left is the damage he has caused

Without realizing he’d be back in the morning for more.

The moonlight is shining bright

Just a reminder she’s still alive tonight

Clenched hands grasp her sweaty feet

Her right wrist aches in defeat after fighting off the weight of another

Why did God make her further suffer?

Caged in by white on the balcony

Sliding glass doors are the only thing that separates her from the reality she just faced

But despite that she’d never wish her worst enemy to take her place

Too afraid to go back in

She urinates on the side

And she hides it by further staining the sheet.

Tears stream down her hot puffy face

Drip red on the stained yellow sheets

A reminder of the blood bath that had begun

But like I said he wasn’t done

He wasn’t satisfied with that war

The whiteboard wasn’t good enough for sure

In his mind I was his girl

But the thought

The smell

The taste

Of him

Made me want to hurl.

Curled up

Sitting on the cold bare concrete

Wrapped up naked in urine and blood stained sheets

The next morning she thought she was safe

The whole house left except for us

Bedroom door unlocked he figured she wouldn’t put up a fuss.

Bedroom door left open

He laughed while she screamed

Nobody rescuing her became her life’s major theme

Condom wrapper still fresh from last night on the floor

Daylight seeped through the verticals so there was no need for him to guess and explore.

She laid there bouncing up and down with the squeaky mattress

Pretending he wasn’t there and she wasn’t undressed

She left her body to survive

The burning

The pounding

The warm sensations

The rush

Of everything.

She drowned herself in her mind

The only thing she felt she had left

The only thing he couldn’t take away from her

The only place she could imagine a sanctuary

A meadow full of vibrant poppies in an emerald city

Snowflakes tickling her nose

And seen from afar was a yellow brick road

Wishing she had never left home.

She followed the yellow trail

Hoping somebody at the end would be there

To help prepare her for the journey about to unfold

An angel appeared wearing a halo glistening of gold

The angel told her not to worry because she would be okay

And if she didn’t want to

She didn’t have to fight and stay.

She noticed herself struggling to breathe steadily

So she left the angel even though she wasn’t ready

She realized she was just lying there

And the pounding became unbearable

But he was angry because she was so lifeless and pale

He finally decided to climb off top of her

Yell and bail.

Stretched out

Sitting on the cold bare tile

Wrapped naked in his scented sticky sheets

She had a choice and she chose to shower

In the steaming hot water

It was the first time she felt that she had the power

To come clean of all damaged he caused

So she could forget

But that never happened because of the pain he caused

Her pregnancy scare

And false positive HIV test he left.

As if she already felt isolated and worthless enough

Let us add on a variety of therapists who didn’t want to touch the memories haunting her

Because her case was deemed very tough

So she continued to show up every week

Slaughtered like a Virginia ham

Just so a man would never touch her again.

She sits in your therapy chair across from you

Naked

Still wrapped up in the yellow stained sheets

Barely breathing

Constantly remembering that night and morning

That came without a warning

And now trying to deal with the memories that surround her

Haunting her body and mind

And you ignoring all of the signs

Despite looking into her eyes to see and find

That she’s damaged goods

And dead inside.