The Unrelenting Memory....

This particular post is yet another one that is very personal.  The poem within was excruciating to write and I've struggled with posting it here, publicly, ever since I finished writing it.  And, after a lot of inner debating, I've decided to share it with you all. 

I know there are millions of women who've dealt with this very thing and I know how hard it is to shed light on it, but I know that as I've talked about it more and more, I've learned how to handle the pain differently.  I've realized that it's nothing to be ashamed of and, thank God, I've found a man who loves me despite what's happened.  He sees me no differently than if it hadn't happened at all and that is something I'll always hold onto when I'm fighting back the thoughts that "I'm not worth it," and "it was my fault," etc.

(Wow, I did NOT take into account how difficult writing the rest of this post would be....my hands are so shaky right now....lol.)

Ladies, let me tell you something:  There is NO MAN on EARTH who can make you feel worthless, inferior, ugly, 'not the right size or body shape,' or anything else - they can try all they like, but the real reason they succeed is because WE LET THEM.  I am not the best example of following this, but it's something I work very hard to do everyday, but (in reference to my very first post on this blog) if we take the time, daily, to look in the mirror and tell ourselves that we're beautiful, loved, and worth every second we have life.
I struggle with this as well, but God didn't and DOESN'T make mistakes.

So....I'll let y'all get on with the rest of the post now.  I'm sure more on this topic will come in the future, but for now; enjoy.  

And, without further ado....

What Should Have Happened That Night....

'His eyes...I fear they're speaking me into silence,' she thought.

The white-washed walls dripping with paint impersonating fresh blood,

the eerie bay window breathing loudly into the large dining hall,

and the waxed tears falling from a thousand touchable stars.

"Silence cannot be spoken, yet with the eyes it can be known," he mused aloud.

At once, her mouth shut.

A baby fly buzzed away, having narrowly escaped being trapped behind the woman’s lips.

Like a frozen body of water cracking under the pressure of below zero temperatures, his heart was nothing more than a chunk of splintered ice.

His eyes spit silence while his hands ran down her body.

"You want to protest, yes?" he said.

She nodded.

Her screams of silent objection reached no one, but she flailed and kicked.

He collapsed and, helpless to grab her again, writhed upon the cold black marble floor as she turned and ran away.

The topic should be rather clear to my readers, however, if you'd like clarification, you need only to ask and I will reply as best as I can.  Anyone may post a comment directly on the post itself or, for more personal questions or whatnot, please feel free to email me at: lk4music@gmail.com.