you took something that day
or maybe, I gave it away?
No. it wasn't my choice

it was your actions
your carelessness, your selfishness
your lack of willingness ... or maybe ability
to understand how your actions affected
someone else

that shouldn't have been a surprise
the history, the pattern, 
well-established by then 
and yet ... it was 
because I was the one 
you trusted more than the others
and so I thought you were the one I could trust

I want to say you took my innocence
but someone will assume something sexual
it was never that, not between us

whatever I call what you took
after that day I trusted even less easily
you'd seen more deeply than I'd let anyone see before
still not to the truth
but back then I didn't let myself see that deep either

but you had seen what I knew then and
you had tangible reminders, words I'd written
words I'd reluctantly shared
until you sent them back

you said later it was about not deserving them
but at the time
you said less than nothing
other than you didn't want
them ... or me? ... anymore

I was ... heartbroken
the word I used that night through my sobbing tears
swinging at the park with the only person
I could still trust enough 
was ... violated

it's taken a very long time
almost thirty years
before I've felt the same freedom
to write with vulnerability that I knew before that day

I didn't block you when you 
reappeared on the edge of my life this time
I thought that was giving away my power
I let you lurk
at some level wondering when you'd engage

I'm done waiting
leaving you lurking ... 
that is what gives away my power
you're not in my world
your voice no longer holds any sway
you are gone never to return

I guess you could say I’ve been unpacking some boxes.

Mainly I wrote this for me because I needed to take back my power, but maybe it will also reminds someone else that they can also reclaim what was taken from them.

And even if it doesn’t, part of reclaiming what was taken is giving myself permission to share the words I’ve written even if they might really only make sense to me, because sometimes all we can do is tell our stories in whatever form they come most naturally.