A Letter to my Past and Present
It's August and this is the last month much of the North American continent will be wearing revealing fashions for comfort, but for a lot of us with body issues & complex histories with ourselves comfort is not so easy. I am dedicating the blogs this month to body image, & self love.
This next poem is a deeply personal piece, it's full of snippets of my history.
Writing it helps me process these feelings of sadness so I can get on with my life.
I hope you'll stay and read it, leave me a comment if it resonates with you.
Next week I'll hit you with a couple of music reviews and some curvy fashionistas.
Thanks for visiting and even greater thanks for reading the poem in it's entirety.
Much Gratitude to all my readers.
A Letter to My Past & Present.
I've been in a funk all day,
you see it's been 18 years
since I stood there and lied
you thought they were tears of joy
really it was all a ploy
to keep me protected at night.
Didn't you wonder why I was 45 min late
I mean who doesn't show up on time for their own wedding date?
You see though I had already seen the signs
the red flags and gaslighting
but I was afraid
unless you've been homeless as a kid or forced onto the street
you probably can't understand
why an 18 year old girl who preferred the company of feral strays
would marry an older Catholic man
pissed off & stuck in his ways.
One that believed he could shit out gold
while his hands were wrapped around your metaphorical throat.
I had it stuck in my head you would protect me from harm
but that fantasy soon lost it's charm.
It all happened so fast & you said we had no choice,
I went along with it but soon lost my voice.
Your family hated me so I could not understand why they said we had to get married but
I had been beaten so badly and I longed to hide
you came along & offered me the chance to be your young bride.
I'd chosen the night of the Persied Metor shower
It was supposed to be the night of a thousand beginnings
You cried as the sun set claiming you saw eternity in my eyes
I think it was because we were both trying to go public in a disguise
I've never been so disrespected
ya all didn't even save me a plate of food, who does that
I'm not sure how your family is so broken
especially coming from so much money and land that was open
When you fired your guns up into the air
knowing how much I was unprepared,
knowing of my PTSD & how my knees would tremble
I would of asked for an annulment before bedtime if I knew how
U were a bully & somehow convinced me I made it all up
even when you were the one calling me "a fucking slut"
The gentlemanly white guy that helps out the neighbor plant their garden bed.
It was less than a week from this very day that you told me to shut my mouth & stop singing.
I was so very scared of being put back on the street & I didn't have anyone to help me get on my feet.
So I stopped singing to keep you happy but parts of me were dying & I always felt crappy.
I still carry the scars of your cruelty & sometimes the mirror is unusually dusty as if the girl looking back is a shadow of me & I'm trying to love her but I still see you in the corner of my eye telling me I'm fat, useless, and my only talent is on my knees.
You wanted a woman good at sex, you got that, but you're fucked up & I'm glad you're an ex.
Most of the time I am very strong & I'm working daily to love me & move on,
you see I've carried this pain for far to long, you don't deserve to be a part of my song.
My journey of self love is still fairly young and
I can't be intimate without my partner being in love with me,
Sometimes I just wanna kiss somebody but I can't trust anyone without them being a part of me
do you have any idea how fucking lonely that can be?
Maybe you do I hear you've been married a few times.
I smile daily but carry war in my bones and flowers in my hair
it's Funny how abusers work you seem like the nice guy
and so many of the hometown think I'm the jerk,
Yes I packed up & left in the night, moved 200 miles away started college & got my brain right.
But I still sit here and cry when this day comes around, nothing anyone says can turn my frown upside down because it's really hard to break that cycle of abuse when a trigger lets the terrifying memories loose.
I'm hoping some day to get the chance again to stand hand n hand with someone that truly loves me & understands someone that doesn't listen to others or call me a street rat someone that sees past that spot in my eye where I still carry the scars of other guys.
But for now this journey is about accepting where I'm at and loving all of me even the past, the freckles and the fat.
For there is someone I love and she is really quite bold although it's taken her a while to shake off their hold. With my thoughts focused on nothing but love.
I'm going to reach into my toolbox and head out on the town, get some sun on my skin and vitamin D in my soul. Let go for a while of the hold this date has, shake loose of the rubble & focus on being glad.
-The Pueblo Poetess
Thanks for reading my blog, here's a little about me.
I am a photographer, a writer, a singer, a survivor and so much more. I may be 36, but My story is just getting started.
Live in the light, most everything else is just waiting to die.
This next poem is a deeply personal piece, it's full of snippets of my history.
Writing it helps me process these feelings of sadness so I can get on with my life.
I hope you'll stay and read it, leave me a comment if it resonates with you.
Next week I'll hit you with a couple of music reviews and some curvy fashionistas.
Thanks for visiting and even greater thanks for reading the poem in it's entirety.
Much Gratitude to all my readers.
A Letter to My Past & Present.
I've been in a funk all day,
you see it's been 18 years
since I stood there and lied
you thought they were tears of joy
really it was all a ploy
to keep me protected at night.
Didn't you wonder why I was 45 min late
I mean who doesn't show up on time for their own wedding date?
You see though I had already seen the signs
the red flags and gaslighting
but I was afraid
unless you've been homeless as a kid or forced onto the street
you probably can't understand
why an 18 year old girl who preferred the company of feral strays
would marry an older Catholic man
pissed off & stuck in his ways.
One that believed he could shit out gold
while his hands were wrapped around your metaphorical throat.
I had it stuck in my head you would protect me from harm
but that fantasy soon lost it's charm.
It all happened so fast & you said we had no choice,
I went along with it but soon lost my voice.
Your family hated me so I could not understand why they said we had to get married but
I had been beaten so badly and I longed to hide
you came along & offered me the chance to be your young bride.
I'd chosen the night of the Persied Metor shower
It was supposed to be the night of a thousand beginnings
You cried as the sun set claiming you saw eternity in my eyes
I think it was because we were both trying to go public in a disguise
I've never been so disrespected
ya all didn't even save me a plate of food, who does that
I'm not sure how your family is so broken
especially coming from so much money and land that was open
When you fired your guns up into the air
knowing how much I was unprepared,
knowing of my PTSD & how my knees would tremble
I would of asked for an annulment before bedtime if I knew how
U were a bully & somehow convinced me I made it all up
even when you were the one calling me "a fucking slut"
The gentlemanly white guy that helps out the neighbor plant their garden bed.
It was less than a week from this very day that you told me to shut my mouth & stop singing.
I was so very scared of being put back on the street & I didn't have anyone to help me get on my feet.
So I stopped singing to keep you happy but parts of me were dying & I always felt crappy.
I still carry the scars of your cruelty & sometimes the mirror is unusually dusty as if the girl looking back is a shadow of me & I'm trying to love her but I still see you in the corner of my eye telling me I'm fat, useless, and my only talent is on my knees.
You wanted a woman good at sex, you got that, but you're fucked up & I'm glad you're an ex.
Most of the time I am very strong & I'm working daily to love me & move on,
you see I've carried this pain for far to long, you don't deserve to be a part of my song.
My journey of self love is still fairly young and
I can't be intimate without my partner being in love with me,
Sometimes I just wanna kiss somebody but I can't trust anyone without them being a part of me
do you have any idea how fucking lonely that can be?
Maybe you do I hear you've been married a few times.
I smile daily but carry war in my bones and flowers in my hair
it's Funny how abusers work you seem like the nice guy
and so many of the hometown think I'm the jerk,
Yes I packed up & left in the night, moved 200 miles away started college & got my brain right.
But I still sit here and cry when this day comes around, nothing anyone says can turn my frown upside down because it's really hard to break that cycle of abuse when a trigger lets the terrifying memories loose.
I'm hoping some day to get the chance again to stand hand n hand with someone that truly loves me & understands someone that doesn't listen to others or call me a street rat someone that sees past that spot in my eye where I still carry the scars of other guys.
But for now this journey is about accepting where I'm at and loving all of me even the past, the freckles and the fat.
For there is someone I love and she is really quite bold although it's taken her a while to shake off their hold. With my thoughts focused on nothing but love.
I'm going to reach into my toolbox and head out on the town, get some sun on my skin and vitamin D in my soul. Let go for a while of the hold this date has, shake loose of the rubble & focus on being glad.
-The Pueblo Poetess
Thanks for reading my blog, here's a little about me.
I am a photographer, a writer, a singer, a survivor and so much more. I may be 36, but My story is just getting started.
Live in the light, most everything else is just waiting to die.
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