Sanctuaries

How many times have you lost yourself because of somebody else?

You allowed men to make homes out of a temple they never appreciated beyond its walls.

They entered you so easily and left once they came.

They only revisited to use you up before turning your sanctuary into ashes.

You were left to mourn what was once an ethereal place of peace.

Countless souls have resided within the confines of your spirit,

and now you are stitching your interior back together although externally you appear okay.

Your mind is weakened.

Your heart is weary.

Bystanders are under the impression that being independent makes you invincible.

They believe that because you went through “that,” then you can surely handle “this.”

Everyone has a breaking point.

Yours is growing nearer by the second.

You’ve loved men that had no clue how to love themselves,

and were treated like the very dirt you walk on.

You’ve held on to the hearts of past lovers for dear life,

while they took extreme measures to destroy yours.

It hasn’t been all bad though.

There were a select few who would give you their all,

but you didn’t want to take it.

Sometimes you didn’t know how to.

The gunk from the men before them had already festered in your mind,

tarnished your heart and toyed with your vision.

You feel filthy inside.

Years of unresolved situations,

intertwining sequences of events and suppressed emotions have piled up.

The pieces of people from your past have left their mark on you without your consent.

You cannot scrub off your scars.

Repression does not erase what still lingers;

denial does not get rid of what devours.

I wonder,

if those that have harmed you so detrimentally, are hurting just the same.

Poet: Stefanie Parrott

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