My heart thump-thumps along with the heels I try to make sound heavy, threatening.
‘Poised’.
I clutch my keys with jagged teeth poking out, and twist my neck every half minute, peering into
black.
I breathe too quickly to be from Trendy Shoreditch. A dark road is my challenge. I am not brave
anymore. The bravery was stupid, arrogant.
I miss it.
I've Been Stripped By This 
#1 by Me on October 21, 2010 - 4:24 pm
So do I.
#2 by Anon on January 9, 2011 - 1:46 am
Some of my poems:
Can you see,
Inside my eyes?
Can you see,
All my hidden lies?
Do you know,
The pain that lies within?
Do you know,
My soul is dark with sin?
Have you heard,
My quiet cries at night?
Have you heard,
I’ve given up the fight?
Can you feel,
My tremble at a touch?
Can you feel,
That this is all too much?
Can you smell,
My fear when a man is too near?
Can you smell,
My wish to disappear?
Can you sense,
My fear at being alone?
Can you sense,
That I hate the unknown?
Do you know how afraid I am?
Do you know how much I hide inside?
Do you know that I have slowly died?
His hands groping,
Feeling all over my body
I can’t escape.
Oh God, why me?
His hands; they’re everywhere.
A tear rolls down my cheek
He laughs,
He knows I’m meek.
His breath, heavy on my face
I close my eyes, try to keep it out.
There’s nothing I can do,
Can’t even shout.
He’s too strong,
He’ll hurt me if I fight.
He says that if he wants,
He can do this all night.
He forces my hands, my mouth, on him,
Ignores my pleas.
Laughs again, his hands touching,
Sliding above my knees.
Finally, he’s stopped, it’s over.
But I have to live with it every day.
No amount of showers can wash the dirt away,
The fear disgust and shame is here to stay
I want to be safe
I want to be naïve
I want these awful memories
To leave
I don’t want to be scared
I don’t want to be a victim
I just want
To forget him
Always wary, always on edge
Wondering about the next threat
Oh God, why,
Why can’t I forget?
I want to move on
I want to be free
I want to get back
The old me
Nightmares
His evil glares
Memories that won’t cease.
Never at peace.
The blood ran down his fingers
The pain as he broke my hymen
I did not cry, I did not fight
He just confirmed what I knew about men
They take what they want
There is no point in arguing
No point in resisting
They will always win
I still hear the music
As he took what was mine
I didn’t fight
Was it a crime?
I can feel his breath
Hot on my face
His breathing quickens
I try to hide my disgrace
But something has changed
I am angry
He did not have the right
To do that to me
His words, always in my mind
“Suck it like a lollipop”
But I am stronger
I won’t give up
“How deep can you take it”
I will always hear his voice
But I will not surrender
I now have a choice
“I’m a real man”
In my dreams, I am now fighting
I don’t let it happen
I don’t let him win
I am growing stronger
I am fighting back
I have the courage
I used to lack
He found me when I was weak
A little girl, desperate for a friend
He took advantage
He was grooming, wanting the end
He didn’t have the right
To do what he did that night
I am finally seeing
Finally, it has started: healing.
#3 by ivebeenstrippedbythis on February 10, 2011 - 12:06 am
Such powerful words, thank you for sharing them!
I find poetry such an effective way to access feelings that are difficult to express, at least in any kind of regular form. It’s pretty rare that I am inspired to write my own (pitifully bad) poetry, but I love to read the work of others who are more talented. Two of my favourites that spring to mind:
Moment
Clear moments are so short.
There is much more darkness. More
ocean than firm land. More
shadow than form.
— Adam Zagahewski
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day – blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
— Wendell Berry