my sister turns ten years old this week.

ten. years. old.

this year

i showed her patience

“try again,” i said

“don’t be afraid to break the shell”

i watch her gasp

as the yoke slithers across the counter.

i feel her body react first

tense

burnt

ashamed

sorry

“it’s ok, i’m not upset”

“we can clean it up” 

i tell her.

my girlfriend shows her a different way

“look lauren, this might be easier”

after encouragement

she tries again

she beams with success

she beams.

here.

i want her to feel

safe

nutured

bonded

empowered

inside this womb.

here

where womanhood

and identity are

celebrated

she is safe.

i attempt to introduce her to freedom

freedom to explore

freedom to feel

freedom to experience.

my sister turns ten years old this week

ten. years. old.

she owns her beauty

and she is learning

to own

her options

i am a control freak

my kitchen is spotless

my bedroom, politely cluttered

i make my own deadlines

ask my mother she’ll tell you i got it from her

ask me and i’ll laugh and agree with her

ask me again and i might give you a look

ask me one more time,

i just might tell the truth

control has weight

control has power

control is everything

when i said “no”, i meant it

and when you didn’t stop

i stopped remembering

my body trembled for hours

i did my best to forget

for months all i did was forget

obliterate 

i remember now

i do remember

that night i lost control

i won’t let anyone 

take that from me

not again

i’m a control freak

because i can recognize its worth

not because of my mother

but because of the feelings 

you raped me of

you raped me of

the ability to feel that you raped me of

i slept for what seemed like days

afterwards

i reverted back to the numbness that has comforted me for years

waking up and trying to put together the dizziness that was the night

before

i can still see the snippets

i can still feel the heat of his body

i can’t hear myself anymore

i lost my voice that night

i blamed myself for the mistakes i made that would have 

invited him

i let him tell me what i did wrong and i took it

i took it like an obedient animal

a fucking animal

i let him take my voice

today i am still silent

i am terrified of the humiliation

he took my voice and he still has it

a loaded gun

in theory i could press charges

in theory i could cost him his job

in theory i could ruin his relationship

in theory i could take something from him

i could get retribution

theory doesn’t describe that ache in my chest

theory doesn’t depict the burning rage in my soul

that retribution would be empty

lifeless

i want to reflect anger

i want more

i want to sleep easy again

i want to feel safe

i want to stop creating walls to keep out the intense vulnerability 

the vulnerability that threatens my composure

today i work hard at the things that matter

i am attempting to channel my anger and fear into something 

productive

i am sick of saying “i”

sick of the self-blame

sick of my defense mechanisms

this is not about the “i” anymore

it’s about the fucking “we”

because i am not the only one

our voices must not be lost