He speaks my love language
(In part)
Hand upon my face, empathic connection
but often it is overcast by the shadow
Of a vulnerability purging...
Quite frankly, the pain he has endured upon me.
It is mind-breaking; the dissonance.
Fragmented, I am trauma-induced
In a slow drip of anxiety & nerves plunging.
Shaking, and stamina failing under the pressure.
Processing surges and eruptions,
Nerves hot & urging;
Skin & muscles in minute and trembling quakes.
Coping has come in daily strategies of stimulants and shots of vodka.
Realized, I have been actively dissociating,
In order to process the trauma no more than I can handle.
He does,
Indeed speak my love language...
But yes, only in part.
For the trauma- bond induced has produced
No life for me at all,
Much worth living.
Had it not been for God, in fact....
I would have ended all this...
Much much long ago.
It is an un-ending purgatory.
and that is all this life has ever been;
Rich in lessons perhaps...
But crippling,
And endlessly tormented
Of aches seething
and screaming of the body.
So much....
Has been lost.
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