My youth is a swindling, vandalizing pirate that loots and extorts all the joy and love I dare to harbor, an anchor on my soul—a heist of my marrow—a hijacking of my ration of vitality. Greedy in its trauma, ravenous and craving with a hankering for all that is fertile and prolific within the waters of my refuge—a hunter—stalking its prey until it is vanquished. Terminated. Extinct.
Love was braided with abuse—gnarled like ancient hands with crooked fingers that can’t hold another—perverted with misery—sexualized within the wiring that’s intertwined and conjugated, spliced together—an incomplete circuit that always trips the breaker.
A disengagement. An unraveling. A divorce. A liberation must be consummated for the emancipation of what shouldn’t dwell within the other—and should be put asunder.
Sweet, strong woman!!! You are so right, time for a divorce from a bond you never wanted nor deserved. You are far better than that. Be bound no more!!!
The line “Love was braided with abuse” is a perfect description of what survivors feel and know.