Phantom

September 28, 2008:

The slap of his words still stings
like the first time he spoke them
each time I remember

The onslaught of insults, the untold tantrums
leave colorless bruises -- deceptively invisible,
with no shades to gauge my healing.

The violation of space -- both physical and mental --
makes my blood boil anew,
kept in check only by the fear he's trained into me

Repressed anger, constant confusion, severe self-doubt --
these have become my closest friends,
standing in for loved ones who have been pushed away

Each day I awake
my prison walls constrict ever tighter around me
I struggle to break free, aching to use my droopy wings
yet paralyzed by doubts that they will even work

His words -- like puppet strings upon my mind --
coax me to stay and twist the fight out of me
I am limp but for his commands

I float ghostlike through my day,
His criticisms echo in my head
I sit beside you on the subway
I work one cubicle away

I am victimized by senses
I am neither heard nor seen
The abuse is not black and blue
Its essence has no proof

***

I wrote this to capture the turmoil one goes through; the fact that we bump up against victims every day who are hidden in plain sight; but also to speak to the frustration that the severe harm inflicted by emotional abusers is not valued equally as a shove or a punch in the legal system. I recognize the challenge to prosecute without physical evidence but I also feel that society gets the false message that emotional abuse isn't 'that bad.' Piling injustice upon injustice, perpetrators understand that if they don't lift a finger, there are no consequences.