Poetic Mental Healing | A Phantom On Its Knees | A Poem

I was a girl

And you touched what you wanted me to bury.

I buried and


Flesh over flesh,

Skin on skin,

Kilogram over kilogram,

Womanhood over girlhood,

Childhood, buried,

Strings around your fingernails,

You defined and polluted what I would have become.

You spoke to me in gestures,

Letting me know,

Letting me take part,

Letting me perform,

Letting me relate to,

Letting me embody the images in your head,

Making me aware of you, not me,

I lie here, buried,

And you play with me, robbing me of my senses,

The words of revolt and outrage, no, indeed.

I put layers and layers

Of myself

On myself

Over myself

To not feel you anymore

To not let you in anymore

To feel less


Shut you out

Myself, as well,

And still, I’d be a feather in the wind.

Push and pull

And I’d still end up in your arms.

I’d eat myself into protection,

I wanted,

Needed thicker skin,

Recreating bits and pieces without your pestilent touch,

Stuffing, numbing, feeding

The void you tore into my body,

As if nothing of me was left,

A heart beating into nothingness,

Becoming your repetitive confessional box and torture chamber.

You’re still growing in my hands

In my spine,

In my skin,

Hands, thighs and mouth,

You wanted to be buried alongside me,

Within me,

But I am kicking you out.

Study of Olympe Pélissier as Judith” by Horace Vernet (1789-1863)

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