This is a free verse poem I wrote because I have been struggling with my PTSD lately.
This poem is for anyone that has ever been hurt before. I hope you enjoy it.
Don’t forget to empty your pockets and always remember…
Empty Your Pockets
They knock on my door, but I don’t let them in.
They send me texts, but I don’t respond.
They call, but I don’t answer.
They leave voicemails. I listen, but never return the call.
They knock on my door, but I can’t let them in.
They try, but I refuse.
The fear freezes me.
Holds me in a bondage I can’t escape.
I can’t visit it now.
I can’t return.
Those are the memories you created.
You hurt me then, and you hurt me now.
I forgot then, but I can’t forget now.
Not right now.
It has resurfaced.
I am not sure when I will let you back in.
For now I stay away. Out of sight. Out of mind. Out of ear shot. Out.
I am frozen in the bondage that you created years ago.
You didn’t care then and I can’t care now. Not right now.
Maybe tomorrow. Maybe. I don’t know.
When it feels right, I will resurface. I will come back.
I will let you back into my life a little at a time.
Handle with caution. Handle with care.
I am fragile when wounded and I feel wounded right now.
Just because. Maybe because I am healing more. Always healing.
When wounded and injured, always healing and recovering.
I will be okay and I will come back one day.
I am not sure when, but one day.
When it is safe. When my heart tells me so.
I can’t be there for you right now.
You weren’t there for me when I needed you most.
You couldn’t be there for me the way I needed you to be.
You didn’t know how.
So, you put me it in your back pocket.
The place where you put everything you can’t deal with.
Don’t think about it. Don’t talk about it. It will go away.
But, it never really goes away.
It remains in your back pocket and becomes buried with the lint.
That was where you put me.
You must have a lot of stuff in your back pockets.
Doesn’t it make it difficult to walk around and live life when your pockets are full?
You need to clean out your pockets and take care of the junk that is in your pockets.
The place where you put things you don’t want to deal with or feel or know even exist.
The place you put things to deal with later.
Unfortunately, later sometimes never came.
Later became too late.
You forgot you put me in your back pocket.
The stuff you can’t deal with.
The stuff you will deal with later, maybe.
I am the later maybe you forgot or didn’t have time for.
You forgot me too many times.
It is my time now.
I think I finally found a back pocket.
I will put you in my back pocket until later.
Just for now.
I will come back though.
I will never leave you in my back pocket.
Please clean out your pockets. You might be surprised what’s in your back pocket.
Maybe it is what you have been looking for, but forgot where you put it.
Maybe it is what you have always been missing.
Maybe it is what you always needed.
Maybe it is me.
~written by Susan Walz
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