By Anthony
in our bed
in the darkness
under our clean sheets and dolphin-gray comforter. His strong arm wraps
around my waist, hand cupping my breast, quietly telling me
about the day.
Away.
Under large bodies
with unkind smiles
in a dark room
with dirty carpet and a moss-green couch. Strong arms wrap
around my waist, mounting my tiny body, loudly attesting
to my worthlessness.
Away.
By Anthony, gently rubbing
with steady hands
in tender movements
with soft words, soothing and caressing
through patient whispers, softly reassuring me that I am
with him.
***
PTSD is being swept away into dark places when you least expect it. It's straddling two worlds as your mind struggles to come back to the present while feeling so stuck in the past. It's gratitude for a grounding presence that gently pulls you back and reminds you that you're 40 years old and you're safe.
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