A poem i wrote in my car (or history repeats)


You see, I didn’t know
If it was a story
To tell
A scar to bear
An experience to relive.
I was unsure
If in the years to follow
The wound had healed
Replaced with other shadows
That kept me distracted.
I had no idea
If the memory
Was just a sour after taste
The kind you get
After a night drinking tequila
Or time spent
With a gossiping friend
Or if it was something worth facing
A somethingness
That leeched into my joy
Like a parasite
A somethingness
That happened one day (one night)
And then it was over
As time buried it alive
Into nothingness.
But when I felt
Another set of hands
(my lover’s)
Hold my body down
Against my will
I roared inside
An anguished animal unleashed
Crying out in pain
With the volume turned right down
Frozen, bewildered, fucking furious
But silent.
Fighting my way out of a dark abyss
To escape
unable to
And I remembered.
I remembered.
I remembered.
As history repeated itself.

  • the things they don’t warn you about trauma.