trauma poetry
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Strangers learned the username before the fear, violence, and history behind it, turning a whole life into a tag.
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He knew he needed to change, and that knowledge became the very thing that kept hope alive long after recognition stopped meaning action.
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A poem about being accused of playing games when the relationship had always been painfully real.
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A cruel sentence reduces an entire relationship to sex, forcing a woman to separate being wanted from being loved.
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The wall keeps the mark even when memory tries to minimize it: something sharp crossed the room, and someone was standing there.
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He always missed, but survival eventually stops treating bad aim as mercy and names the violence for what it was.
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A body learns to brace for impact even without touch when rage is close enough to feel on the skin.
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History was kinderto the swordthan it ever wasto the woman bleeding beneath it. That is how the story goes. A man becomes violentand someone searches his childhoodfor the wound that explains him. A woman becomes angryand suddenlythe anger is the crime. So they wrote Medusabackward. Started with the snakes. Started with the stone. Started with…
