deepundergroundpoetry.com

Dishes Lying Witness in the Sink

the day you ruined me
sitting at our kitchen table   †
telling you about the boy † †  
who hurt me at school, † †
pinching and twisting my nipple † †
through my shirt † †
† †  
...he told me Iíd be cute † †
if I wasnít so fat † †
† †  
I was alone † †
waiting for the bell † †
feeling clumsy and exposed † †
surrendering to the internal chaos † †
of rapid-fire thoughts † †
finding my way to the inside † †  
as Iíve always tended to do † †
the colors and shapes † †
homemade hallucinations † †  
eidetic daydreams † † †
distracting me † †  
† †  
from this inevitable moment † †  
† †  
standing in the hall † †
trapped outside my locker † †
in the hell between classes † †  
body rigid † †  
my breath shoving way † †
through too-tight lungs † †  
eyes down to avoid collision † †
with anyone immune † †
to my force-willed invisibility † †
the halls a tangled jungle † †
full of Darwinís theory in action † †
and I know † †
I am far from the fittest † †  
† †  
you said I deserved it † †  
for not paying attention † †  
and for the way I stood, † †
† †  
chest out and face proud † †
† †  
batting my eyelashes for boys † †
with my breasts on display † †
it was attention I was after † †
and it was attention that I got † †
your words exhaled on hot breath † †
from thin, bitter lips † †
† †  
are you proud of yourself now? † †
† †  
dripped from the crown of my head † †
running down my face † †  
in a thick coat of shame † †
† †  
my constant companion † †  
† †  
you donít have to worry, though † †
I havenít had a proud moment † †  
since that one † †
you fixed me right up † †
† †  
I told you I didnít understand † †  
why heíd say such a mean thing † †
I was just a normal girl † †
with a normal body † †  
I was born on a rainbow † †
and hit the spectrum with a slap † †  
but I never caused him any pain † †
and it seemed unfair † †
to my eighth grade view † †
of justice † †  
† †  
because itís true, thatís why † †  
† †  
his words continue to sting my skin † †
because after all these years, † †
I still donít know if he was right † †
† †  
you swept your arm † †
across the table † †
clearing it in your anger † †
at my audacity † †
to refer to myself † †  
as a normal anything † †
and you began to speak † †  
five inches from my face, † †
your morning coffee † †  
mixed with the smell † †  
of loathing † †
on your breath † †  
† †  
I blinked † †
† †  
and an hour had passed † †
while you spit venom † †
and slapped my face † †  
when my eyes glazed over † †
in my desperation † † †
to escape to somewhere else † †
† †  
anywhere else † †
† †  
and you shouted words † †  
my broken memory † †
has graciously never given † †  
me permission to recall † †  
for that I suppose † †  
I should be grateful † †
† †  
it took me a lot of years † †
to realize what was lost † †  
from me that day † †
as I sat in therapy † †
nervously tapping my feet † †
snacking on my bottom lip † †
a stolen throw pillow † †
from the sleek leather couch † †
squeezed tightly to shield myself † †
(my heart) † †
from her prying questions † †
and painful demands † †
† †  
point to the picture † †
that looks most like your body
† †
her voice is too quiet † †
and full of what feels like pity † †
the sound making me furious † †
I donít want to play this game † †  
† †  
but I couldnít find the right one † †
† †  
because I donít know † †
what I look like † †
because I canít see † †
my image in my own mind † †
because I canít imagine † †
that I still exist † †
† †  
your rage finally spent † †
you turned back to your dishes † †  
lying witness in the sink † †
humming a tune that Iím sure † † †
was approved by the elders † †
double-stamped † †
by the great Reverend James † †
lounging on the couch † †
twelve feet away † †
† †  
I take thousands of photos † †
the Selfie Queen! † †
you still live to spit at me, † †
but I wonder if you know † †
that it doesnít matter † †
how many photos I take † †
I donít recognize the face † †
returning my gaze† †
† †  
not since the day you ruined me † †
sitting at our kitchen table † † †
LunaGreyhawk
Written by LunaGreyhawk
Published
Author's Note
The path to healthy is painful.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 9 reading list entries 6
comments 13 reads 148
DevilsChild Ahavati DanielChristensen AspergerPoet56 Sky_dancer Honoria
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:18pm by Layla
POETRY
Today 3:16pm by souladareatease
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:15pm by souladareatease
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:12pm by souladareatease
SPEAKEASY
Today 2:59pm by Kinkpoet