crumbling grace & scoured petals

i remember you sitting on me once on the toilet. you would take it upon yourself to invade my privacy every chance you got and touch me. touch me. coz you couldn't keep your fucking hands off me. and your fucking dick in your pants and away from me. were you wearing pants? i don't remember seeing them. did you visit kay's room too? (before she died, she said you did things.) was that before or after your visits to my room? do you think mum bought that 'checking on the girls' excuse all along? or is that why you liked to stay up later than mum?
i know you spied on me ... lurked about ... (among other things) while i slept, or pretented to sleep. did you know? that sometimes i pretended? i know you did things. ugly things. things involving your penis. i remember having bladder infections. severely. all the time. i remember the way of our household. doting, touchy-feely, controlling father and emotionally absent mother. and, i remember what mother said to us girls: 'i don't love you or you' ... 'i'm gonna kill myself and it'll be all your fault' ... is this why? is this why she said those things? because she knew?
i remember your rules and control. of us, your girls. YOUR baubles ... existing solely for your pleasure. i remember how your forbade us from going to sleepovers. and from having any of our own. i remember the visits. flashes. bits. shards. and the way you owned me. invaded me. violated me. my body remembers. remembers the sensation of you, violating me. scouring my tender, frail flower. scouring my insides. imagine steel wool scouring an orchid. that's what it felt like. SCOUR. pieces of me flaked away with each thrust. you erased me ... eroded me. with your slimy sandpaper thing. with your sandpaper lust.
to nothingness.
again. and again. and again.
my heart flaked away to nothingness.
painful. searing. desolate.
you reduced me to nothingness.
i hold no grudge. i feel no desire for revenge. but i have closed my heart to you. and i feel repulsed by your touch. and your desperate, silent pleas for mercy. i hold no grudge. i feel no desire for revenge. but i do not surrender forgiveness. and i never will. your grace grotesquely crumbles. and i feel pangs of sadness. for you. for me. for what could have been. if only. if only. and now? what do you expect? how dare you expect anything! that's what my bruised raven heart cries out, in the dark of night, when my body cannot sleep. you took a gentle dove in your hands. and you pressed. suffocated. choked the life from it. and your grace grotesquely crumbled.
eviscerating my pysche.
Labels: childhood, flashbacks, personal