who
controls the silence?
somehow
I learned to
separate the experience
from the feeling * this way
I wouldn't be present
when the bad stuff
happened
I'm
still trying to put
myself back together
and so
I mourn
living with the memories * the
terror * guilt * shame * pain * hurt
ever present (even if they
now say they're sorry)
what truths must I tell my children?
when I was little, my father told me
that each person is given a certain
number of words to use during their
life. when the words are used up, the
person dies. I remember counting each
word I spoke, afraid I would die young.
I promised I wouldn't do that to my daughter
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