I'm sitting in a desk,
towards the back of the room,
the first time I have a flashback about you in class.

You're sitting across the room,
but it feels as if you're breathing down my neck.
My concentration shifts from taking notes,
to an all too vivid memory.

Suddenly I'm pinned down
on my own bed
with you towering over me.

The teacher talks of hominids,
but all I hear is my own screams.
A chorus of "No"
that was heavily ignored.

My breathing is shallow,
my heartbeat is rapid.

I've missed an entire slide by the time I snap out of it.

I'm not gonna borrow the notes from you, that's for sure.


(d.d.b)

i tried to picture myself without you, but i couldn't.
now here i am without you and i still can't picture it.

But I can’t go anywhere in this small, god-forsaken town without seeing you and having a panic attack.
Do you realize this at all?

Sometimes I can’t sleep in my own ******* bed because you made it a crime scene when you shoved me down on it while I screamed “No.”

You ****** me up. You still **** me up. And you will never be punished.

That in itself is ****** up.


(d.d.b)

I don't want to fall asleep becuase I know you'll be in my nightmares

Your touch.
Your voice.
Your sly smile.

The way you always take "No"
to mean "Yes."

I fight the unconciousness my body craves to save my mind from the vicious terror that is the memory of you*


(d.d.b)

I wonder if I'll ever forget that feeling,
That loss;
And all of this uncertainty.

I wish I could just pack up these memories and emotions and just throw them out the window and watch them soar into the sky.

I just want to be able to breath,
But even breathing becomes hard when the flashbacks do nothing but choke me alive.

                                       Alysia Marie 2015 ©

Sometimes I get one of those nostalgic feelings rush through me whenever I get a whiff of fresh plaster or spackle. It reminds me of all those times my dad would have to patch up another hole in one of the walls. At one point he would only do it once a week. When you know that there’ll just be more the next day, why not wait a while and fix them all at the same time? Eventually he stopped fixing them altogether. I used to think it meant it was okay and that when I got angry enough I could just put a hole in the wall too and add to the collection of broken bits of my family. When my parents discovered the accumulation of chasms in my wall, my dad made me learn how to fix them because I was not allowed to react the same way as my brother. Needless to say, I rarely put my hand or foot through the walls after the first 2 times I had to fix them. I wish there was some way they could have managed to get my brother to fix the voids he’d created. Perhaps, he’d have learned how much the damage you inflict can affect those around you. I know I certainly did.

I remember hiding under an old cherry wood dining table. I remember holding my baby sister, shielding her eyes, covering her and trying to tuck her away. Pulling her as close to me as possible, like I might be able to fold her skin into mine so she wouldn’t have to see what was happening around us. I can still hear her crying into my bony 7 year old shoulder and whaling amongst the chaos with the bitty 4 year old voice that she had at the time. I remember the heart stopping feeling of watching my mother get thrown into the wall and watching my brother, 11 years older than myself, hurtle the beautiful antique silver coffee *** that my grandmother left us- into the space near her head where it bludgeoned the wall. I remember barely being taller than the table myself and pulling my sister out when I saw a chance for us to escape the scene and run into another room.  I remember turning around and seeing my older sister, who was 10 at that time, running up and hitting and kicking my brother and getting shoved to the side. I’ve grown accustomed to the headaches I now get at the sight of flashing police lights.

Some people,
they fear the dark, they fear snakes, the fear storms.
I, I fear the way that he looks at me,
what was once a decent smile is now a murderous grin.
Every second I stare I can feel his grip tighten on my neck,
he hasnt talked to me since.
I havent wanted him since,
the nightmares I have,
waking up and having him in my house,
waking up and having him killing me,
like he said he would,
like he said he wanted to.