1. The Lingering
“I escaped him, but he never really left.”
Leaving isn’t the end.
Sometimes, the ghost stays longer than the man.
He becomes part of the architecture.
Psychological: Trauma doesn’t end with distance—it echoes.
Emotional: His memory hides in muscle memory, in breath.
Relational: You can be free, and still not feel safe.
Spiritual: Presence haunts even when the source is gone.
Rhythm: Slow. Misted. A whisper pressed against the walls.
2. The Double Occupancy
“But she—she still lived in my head.”
The version he fractured doesn’t vanish.
She waits.
She wanders your internal halls,
still wearing his shame.
Psychological: Internalization is the longest captivity.
Emotional: Survival sometimes means splitting.
Relational: The self becomes a battleground between memory and becoming.
Spiritual: You carry versions of yourself the world has never seen.
Rhythm: Hollow echo. Silent steps. Haunted interiority.
3. The Erosion of Self
“He wanted your soul to splinter…”
Abuse is not just action.
It’s extraction.
A reshaping of who you are meant to be.
Psychological: Abusers don’t just wound—they rewrite.
Emotional: They distort the blueprint of your identity.
Relational: It’s never just about violence—it’s about dominion.
Spiritual: He wasn’t content to break your heart. He aimed for your wholeness.
Rhythm: Crackling. Edged. An identity hollowed out.
4. The Return to Ground
“But I stepped forward—onto this cracked, solid land.”
Healing doesn’t start with triumph.
It starts with a tremble.
With choosing to move, even if barely.
Psychological: Progress begins before confidence arrives.
Emotional: Every step is sacred, even when it shakes.
Relational: You leave behind what he buried by naming it.
Spiritual: Deliverance is not a rescue—it’s a walk.
Rhythm: Uneven. Rhythmic. A sacred stumbling.
5. The Reclamation
“With each step, I dropped a ‘gift’ he buried in me…”
Healing is a stripping down.
A return.
Each lie removed is a reclaiming.
Psychological: What was once planted in trauma becomes composted.
Emotional: Letting go looks like grieving what you carried.
Relational: You’re no longer curating the pain he gave you.
Spiritual: The rot does not get the final word.
Rhythm: Gentle release. Weight lifting in silence.
6. The Visible and Invisible Bruises
“The bruises are fading beneath my skin…”
Recovery isn’t dramatic.
It’s quiet.
It’s the light slowly dissolving the gas.
Psychological: Emotional injuries fade slower than physical ones.
Emotional: Relief becomes the new rain after years of thunder.
Relational: You stop responding to ghosts.
Spiritual: The body begins to unclench.
Rhythm: Luminous. Calm. A breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.
7. The Defiance of Presence
“Just know: he tried to make me disappear.”
This is more than survival.
It’s defiance.
It’s choosing not to vanish.
Psychological: Visibility becomes a form of protest.
Emotional: You refuse to erase the girl who endured.
Relational: You are no longer a reflection of what he did.
Spiritual: You are living proof that he did not win.
Rhythm: Bold. Clear. A quiet roar under steady feet.
8. The Integration
“But the new me, won’t erase her.”
Wholeness is not starting over.
It’s gathering the pieces,
and letting them speak together.
Psychological: Healing is integration, not erasure.
Emotional: She isn’t your shame—she’s your witness.
Relational: You carry yourself—not the version he constructed.
Spiritual: You bless the girl who survived by letting her stay.
Rhythm: Full. Grounded. A breath that belongs entirely to you.
Final Image
This poem doesn’t just walk away.
It turns back, looks the past in the eyes,
and says:
“I know what you tried to do.
But I stayed.
And she—
she is still with me.
Alive.
Whole.
Unashamed.”
J.N. Rose 