What you stole from me.

You stole from me soft kisses my lips cannot erase, 

Even as the winter leaves them cracked and withered

And dry as my throat that still feels freshly ripped in two

From the screams that will never cease to come…

You stole from me that safety, that feeling I held so dear,

To be able to smile with confidence at my reflection;

I spent my life fearing who I was, and you gave me hope,

And just as quickly gave me the reasons to believe all that I had feared…

You stole from me my gentle touch, my outlook on humanity,

How I viewed everything as something that could be fixed,

Everything could be made new, could be made to heal, to help,

Now it all seems like poison, meant only to prolong my suffering…

You stole from me…you stole from me nothing that I did not willingly give away. Maybe that is why this did not feel like a hit and run, some common mugging, some simple crime that has gone unpunished. No, you did not take any of me with you…my soft kisses, my feeling of safety, my gentle touch, none of those are with you. You didn’t steal them; I gave them to you, and you left them on the ground somewhere, and I have spent the past 4 years walking around blind, praying that someone, anyone, will find them and give them back to me.

I’m stupid, ignorant, embarrassing, and far too much of a coward to ever find them again on my own, so I’ll do what all cowards do and pray to a God I don’t believe in to send someone to save me…