** Trigger warning**
Being held under the dirty water.
Naked. Touching. Waiting for my reaction. Stoic. Switch off. Dirty things floating, including me.
Hair tangled, stuck to my face.
Laying on the floor.
My baby taken away from me because I’m too crazy to look after it.
I didn’t even get to see it.
I have never been able to see it, but I always feel the connection, I only need to look.
I look in, I look out. Invisible but I can feel it looking at me.
If I could only see your face. If only I could remember to forget. If only I didn’t hate.
If only, if only, if only.
You can try to be mindful, but everything is not always OK.
The water is too far away, too dirty.
Voices are too loud, too accusing.
The mirror is being too mean.
The ground won’t open up, swallow us and take us away.
We are full to the brim with empty.
Six arms, three pairs of hands and no one to hold onto but each other.
We made a vow not be hurt again. And again. And again.