Those old ghosts have found their way
back to my room in the dark.
I feel their hands upon my skin
just like all those years ago.
Taking what does not belong to them
leaving terror in their wake.
Something gone that will never return
emptiness in its place.
The numb became protector
where nothing had to hurt.
Where I could be normal and know how to act
without crumbling into fear.
The tears would come at the very worst time
the intimacy exposed.
I never knew how to tell her why
I couldn’t give her that part of me.
The reason is simple really
it was taken long ago.
The hole that was left in its wake
the hollow gaping wound.
Without the numb to hide within
the false sense that I am alright.
Without the loss of inhibition
I have no idea how to act.
I’ve never found that motion
Never felt truly safe enough
to tell you the names of those tears.
I needed you to touch me
in the very deepest place.
In the tiny and broken parts of me
to tell them that they were safe.
I needed to let all of it go
yet you let go of me instead.
Now those broken pieces are aching
to be touched and to be felt.