August 11, 2017.
from the child's eye.
I whistled "swings" between a small gap in my front teeth.
Then I told her about the girl who pushed me
-and about the blood on my knees.
I even told her about how I sat out during recess because of it.
How I wasn't really sure why.
But I think I just wanted some time
to think about how much I had trusted her to push me.
I didn't mind the fall so much.
Most of my family's knees seemed weak anyway.
They'd get on them every night before bed, like they were almost giving up.
So I told her how I'd start doing the same.
I told her about my dad, how he reminded me of her in a way.
How he'd push me too, leaving all types of bruises.
How I'd scurry into the bathroom with the door locked and be so confused.
About how I had trusted him too.
I fell in love with the colors black, purple, and blue.
Because they were familiar to me.
I took shelter in small places like a southern mouse
and comforted myself in colors of coldness and rusty, metal swings.
Poetry by aidan haskel
Read 1060 times
Written on 2017-08-11 at 07:43
Tags Chidlhood Abuse Trauma
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from the child's eye.
i fell from those swings
"I fell from those swings.", I told her.I whistled "swings" between a small gap in my front teeth.
Then I told her about the girl who pushed me
-and about the blood on my knees.
I even told her about how I sat out during recess because of it.
How I wasn't really sure why.
But I think I just wanted some time
to think about how much I had trusted her to push me.
I didn't mind the fall so much.
Most of my family's knees seemed weak anyway.
They'd get on them every night before bed, like they were almost giving up.
So I told her how I'd start doing the same.
I told her about my dad, how he reminded me of her in a way.
How he'd push me too, leaving all types of bruises.
How I'd scurry into the bathroom with the door locked and be so confused.
About how I had trusted him too.
I fell in love with the colors black, purple, and blue.
Because they were familiar to me.
I took shelter in small places like a southern mouse
and comforted myself in colors of coldness and rusty, metal swings.
Poetry by aidan haskel
Read 1060 times
Written on 2017-08-11 at 07:43
Tags Chidlhood Abuse Trauma
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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