Ink Stained Soul…

My heart aches to know love as the receiver. All the wounds that reopen at an attack recover – sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly. But they do recover. It’s the words that linger: ‘unclean,’ ‘tainted,’ ‘unworthy of love.’ They’re dark shadows whispering at me. When physical pain resurfaces, I hear them – reminders of the nights I survived. Each new situation that doesn’t feel as bad, I allow to take hold, because it looks different. Avoiding the same monsters, I’ve encountered new ones I wasn’t prepared for. I retreat into safety, whether it’s with my sanctuary I build alone or with a monster that I’m so numb to, I don’t even care. Is this what a lifetime of abuse looks like? At the heart of it, I’m still broken, and all I can do is hope and love. Maybe that’s why it keeps coming to break me – because I still show up as love.