Uncategorized · Works in progress

Being A Woman (False Love)

Words? Which words? Clothed with that feeling. This fleeting moment seems to be too much. I can’t deal. Times steals memories and heals memories again. I had hoped it to be more gentle this time, like rain. I had prayed so hard, my knees felt the roughness of the carpet that morning. My heart thumping and heavily sounding, I prayed. Not for me, not for you but for life. For forgiveness because I tend to carry things unnoticeable till fears fall like tears from my eyes. I have seen it all, heard it all. I have listened to people plot pleasing me just because they can. Just because pretense was more easy for them than not being absent. I have massaged out emotions that have anchored me down. Have found a place in the sea where my bottle with a letter inside, slowly subsides and I wish to find it on the sea shore each morning I let my feet me embraced by the beach water. Intentionally wash away my identity. Where I walked: bare feet on lands with thorns that pricked my skin. I have been meaning for you to not ask me my name, Not yet, not now. I had hoped my experiences will dilute the desire for you to know me. To look just at the make up on my face, making up for lost times. I had been bruised, yes! But I did not know. I did not want to know that I was hurting. It felt like they would never get the pain I harbor. He branded me with fists, I was his. My words were not to be considered, I just existed in his eyes. But I never knew that that was abuse till someone told me it was. He did not pretend to understand why I could not see that. He plainly told me so. And his name, too, can not be revealed because his kindness you are not yet to know, yet, not now. This is a journey to recovery, once more. This journey of being a man with a womb in this part of the world. This is my story.

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