Ink Stained Soul…

When the wound is so deep, what do you even do?
My formatable years 11-14 loss was the theme. I lost my grandfather. I saw this man whom loved me every single day and he was gone. My mother left. I came home from school one day and she was just gone. My family never the same. My little sister, older brother, and I never to live in the same space again. I lost my pack. Friends forced to have me around more due to the situation, they grew resentful. They didn’t want me there and in truth I didn’t want to be around actual families. I had lost mine. Finally, my grandmother lost her battle 3 years after her husband.My entire life wiped out. I was rapped in those years, an easy target I suppose for predators. Loss all I know is loss. So how do I truly heal from abandonment fully when I must guard at some level?

Then he came along and gave me a place to let myself heal. Guiding me. Small ways. Making sure I knew it wasn’t my fault. Never trying to fix it just letting me say it. Giving it space to land. Making sure I skipped certain episodes of shows so I wouldn’t be triggered. Music, something so deep in my soul. He walked in my lyrical world like he owned it. Deepening our bond. Care, great care of my wounds wrapped in quiet gestures. Not unseen. Noticed. I was allowed to be angry, encouraged even. Relief. Appreciation. Friendship forged. My Lover, the only one I was able to freely give myself too. No one has ever had me like him. He carried me in ways that may have seemed insignificant to others but were everything I needed to come back to life. His presence all I have ever needed, and what I’m terrified of losing the most. A world without him would devastate my entire existence. I saved me but he held space for me to do it. He is my Always, in my heart, for he witnessed me.