I’ve known seeing someone I love point a kitchen knife to their neck, to their belly.
I’ve known being choked to the point the still lights above me started glimmering and dancing.
I’ve known saying no feebly in my drugged stupor so many times as he tried to take off my bra.
I’ve known having meaningless sex to drown out pain
I’ve known the persistency of the pain of feeling unloved, rejected, abandoned that resided and was rooted in with my soul.
I’ve known denial.
I’ve known the sounds of police cars and the cold, professional voices of inquisitors.
I’ve known measuring the bicep of my arm with the circle formed between my index finger and my thumb to make sure I did not get any bigger— “the only thing I could control”.
I’ve known the hollow crevices of walls and floor-beds where I laid with my back, wanting to sink in until I disappeared.
I’ve known crying tears and screaming loud, bellowing out versions of sounds I no longer remember–not human, not animal– wanting it all to go away.