The Things We Carry
one day you just stop caring
because it’s easier that way
and it’s not like anyone notices anyway
except for those of us
with hearts like swiss cheese
battle wounded by love
carrying around the PTSD
like a rucksack on your back
nick nack paddywhack
give the bitch a bone
because some men think you want it
even when you say no
screaming it in your head
though it struggles to escape your mouth
because who are you
but a drunk girl looking for attention
and affection from filthy hands
and you always know
you always remember
when they didn’t listen
because the next day
and the day after that
your churning gut reminds you
you can’t look at yourself in the mirror
without wanting to scrape your fingernails
down your face to erase the ugly emanating from inside
and even now
thirty years later
you still don’t like what you see
and think you still deserve only the things
no one else wants
Wow, so honest and powerful. I hope it is mostly fiction and poetic license. Either way I enjoyed the read.
I wish it were mostly fiction, but alas it is not.
I care