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Wendy Boutin Poem
I should be ecstatic, I should have tears of joy shining in my eyes,
But as I watch the ultrasound I feel a gut wrenching pain inside.
I am unable to attach myself to this reality,
I backtrack in time back to our twins.. back to that tragedy.
I find myself gasping within this room with walls that are much to close,
I desperately want this baby but I cannot spark that hope.
I remember vividly being held within your arms shaking,
When they told me our twins hearts had stopped and not faded.
I remember stark pain that tore through me and left my lungs feeling raw.
From the screams that raked through me and how much blood I saw.
I cant touch my stomach without cringing out of fear.
How could i put so much love into a baby who might not join us here...
How can I explain to you that when I held my breath...
I was imaging not giving birth but a stillborn on my chest.
I can't force these lungs to expand under the pressure of my ribs..
To see that look within your eyes there's nothing I wouldn't give.
My love I'm terrified...
I dont know what words to say to make you see
I feel less like my self and there's an emptiness in me.
They call this normal.
It's to be expected.
My body is a barren place where my Hope had been rejected.
I am struggling with the fact I now carry another beating heart...
I don't think I could handle it.. if this baby were to part.
Copyright © Wendy Boutin | Year Posted 2019
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Wendy Boutin Poem
She once painted a picture of a girl who wanted to fly,
Jumped right off the canvas and took to the sky.
Her brush nothing fancy just a dull chipped blade,
nothing more to do now than watch her paint the page.
She's an artist...
Ink swims through her veins.
She could paint forever because she controls the pain.
She's a natural,
watch the way the canvas comes to life.
peels itself from the fabric as the blood begins to dry..
its beautiful, sickeningly so.
looks just like water color as the paint starts to flow.
relief crawls over her skin as her painting takes its shape,
blurring at the edges and her hands begin to shake..
She's dizzy now and her painting begins to fade,
this is her masterpiece and shes no longer afraid.
She's ready,
it all started with a paintbrush, a simple dull chipped blade..
nothing left to do now.
Just to clean the mess she made.
Copyright © Wendy Boutin | Year Posted 2017
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Wendy Boutin Poem
Rejected. Again.
Tonight I think I felt utterly defeated.
My hands around my towel to the shower I retreated.
I cleaned the house. Put the kids to bed early.
So I could try my best to be flirty...
He shows me no interest. I wear black lace.
I expect him to kiss me.. hands on my waist...
My fiance sighs... Me on my knees now I'm bare.
No passion in kissing or fist in my hair.
He looked down at me and said sternly "no."
But i tried again. I just couldn't let it go.
I kissed up his neck and I straddled his hips.
Heartache felt like a sinking ship..
"Didnt you hear me say no"
"Get off"
I feel dirty.
What should I expect? Hes in his mid 30s
Like I'm trying to force him..I hear whispers.
I scrub my skin raw in the shower... till it blisters.
I'm 23 maybe I'm too eager to please him.
I hear his excuses yet he calls them his reasons.
I'm available to him. At his beck and call.
When I want him.... he let's me fall.
We have 2 kids and my body has changed.
Maybe I just dont feel the same.
Maybe I dont look my best.
Why do I feel like a monster with my hands on his chest?
We're supposed to get married legitimately
How do I cope with no intimacy?
We have sex twice a month if I'm honest
I'm feeling disgusting. Worthless. Haunted.
I lay naked beside him and tears sting my eyes.
I choke out another "i love you. goodnight."
Copyright © Wendy Boutin | Year Posted 2020
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Wendy Boutin Poem
If you've never had the most important thing in your life held against you...
I wouldn't expect you to understand what I've been through.
If you've never felt so defeated and weak,
you felt sick to your stomach and dropped to your knees.
I wouldn't expect you to see what I've seen.
You wouldn't know how I held my breath and waited.
Or how I felt broken or the blood that I've tasted.
People can judge without batting an eye.
But these same people have never had to lie.
To say something that means so much 3 simple words,
like "I've had enough".
I love you is meant for the ones who earn it,
not for those people who manipulate and turn it.
love is not bruises, sadness and hate.
love is not pain, or seeing how much I can take,
People may think I'm "Broken" and that's fine.
because at the end of the day I'm yours and you're mine..
I feel safe and I don't flinch under your hands.
I'm genuinely happy and I know people don't understand,
How could they?
I'm not afraid. I don't have to keep this secret,
I'm not afraid that he will find me or Afraid I have conceived his..
I Don't have to lie and I don't have to feel ashamed.
I think of nothing but happiness when I say your name.
I don't hide anymore, hearing the bottle smash beside me,
I don't cry myself to sleep after he's forced himself inside me.
These thoughts are crippling...
I can't deny the heartache as it gnaws the strings that keep me sane,
Waking up from nightmares, screaming another mans name.
Please just stop.
I don't want to do this. It hurts....
Bleeding on the floor as I question my worth.. Again.
I wake up in an embrace that feels like home yet i shudder.
Constantly afraid of a man who's eyes broke me and made me a mother.
_WendyMae
Copyright © Wendy Boutin | Year Posted 2018
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Wendy Boutin Poem
See my heart stopped today and I felt it drop to my stomach,
where 2 babies lay, Except now there 1 wasn't.
I went to the doctor today and they showed me a screen,
Of an empty pit in my stomach where my baby had been.
I was having twins just 2 weeks ago and Baby A was just fine,
While Baby B had a low heart rate and needed some time..
I Still have my daughter and I still have a baby inside.
That doesn't stop the hurt that a part of me has died.
She lit up the screen and showed me two sacs,
One with a heart beat and the other.. Just black...
I shook my head and I cried and cursed feeling broken,
I knew the odds but still I was hoping....
I have no words to comfort my sorrows,
I know that nothing will change come the sun rise tomorrow.
"High Risk"
That's what the nice doctor told me in person,
Until after the first trimester where the odds weren't certain.
I feel defeated.
I feel hurt.
I feel angry.
Like somehow being this way, could save a lost baby?
I'm lashing out because I don't know how to make it stop!
I am furious and I'm heart broken,
This rooms too hot.
My mom held me, That's what mothers do,
She rocked me and reassured me,
Would you believe I'm nearly twenty-two??
I want to write about it, I want to get it off my mind,
i want to be able to grieve without the "Give it time"
I feel ashamed?
I know that Nothing could have prevented this,
I know sometimes "it's just not meant to be"
Right now, I'm upset, and i know it didn't just effect me,
I'm trying to see your side of this but right now i just can't do it,
I can't see past my selfish thoughts or who's body is going through it.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry that I need time alone...
Theres a hole in the pit of my stomach,
As hard as I'm trying, I can't rise above it.
I'm sorry... My love...
Copyright © Wendy Boutin | Year Posted 2018
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Wendy Boutin Poem
Is it for pleasure or for pain?
to see what lingers in her veins.
to watch it spill across her chest,
cherishing the scars that are left..
it's not normal the way she begs for each incision ,
she silent as she feels steel on skin and blackness clouds her vision.
she really wants this.
she's damaged at the least.
she begs for him to hurt her as she grovels at his feet.
she's a different kind of submissive
he wouldn't have believed it had he not witnessed,
shes bleeding on the floor and this time shes too calm,
that cut looks really deep as he takes her in his arms.
He feels sick...
"Are you okay?"
He shakes his head and questions if all of this has gone too far..
"My Love?" He whispers as he counts all the scars..
How can you heal the wounded when they enjoy the pain,
Could you bring yourself to stop?
When she whispers your name?
Copyright © Wendy Boutin | Year Posted 2018
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Wendy Boutin Poem
I pull myself out of the dark pit I've created in my head,
Inside there is a hanging light and a tattered child's bed.
The table is collapsing under the pressure of a girl who's only 5.
She has long dirty blonde hair, a round face and sad eyes.
Just past her furrowed brow is a pained look that still breaks my soul.
I want to reach out and comfort her and pull her from this hole.
Her cousin molested her and he told her not to tell..
So when people asked her what hurt.. She said that she fell.
The courts said joint custody and placed her with her father,
Who's alcoholic tendencies made him question his daughter..
He pulled over, Left her on the side of the highway with a slur,
"stop crying or You won't go back with her!"
I stayed silent.
Just the beginning.
Now at 9 years old a boy from school pushed her to the ground
The teacher said "It's cause he likes you, don't worry, He'll come around"
She found that boys who treated her badly must really love her dear,
So when she turned 15 she let a guy push past her fears.
He was 32 and she thought he really liked her,
Enough for her to spread her legs, at the time it did excite her.
At 17 she found a man who degraded her worth and hit her,
He found his way to her heart and found with that he could keep her.
So he kept her close, Limited her contact with the public
kept her pinned to the wall & when questions came up he changed the subject
She was damaged and he used it to his advantage without hesitation,
Handed her a razor, introduced her to self mutilation.
He went to prison and she dry heaved she had felt broken,
Straight to the hospital where they told her they were certain
She was expecting a Daughter of her own,
Committing to herself that she would always be safe at home.
Now she's 21 and she struggles with mental health and seperation
But the man she's with now seems to be her salvation.
She is safe.
She is loved.
She feels her family is complete.
Never to crumble beneath a man, breaking in defeat.
Copyright © Wendy Boutin | Year Posted 2018
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Wendy Boutin Poem
You called it confusion.
A. We'll call her subject A when I was 10 years old I had this friend who liked to have sleep overs but wanted me to hold her, she was a good girl. she would trace circles on my inner hip and tell me everything and I'd wake up to her head on my arm. I wouldn't move till she did. She got a bf who wanted to take her virginity and treated her badly so I stopped talking to her. Cut ties and never looked back.
B . We'll call her b. I'm 13-14 she likes to kiss me on the school bus and infront of her friends but she's not into girls unless she's getting attention, she has my shirt up and I'm laying on her bed, she says my chest is small and teases me then she's burning me with a lighter and I'm confused because she doesn't like me but I feel pleasure. She wants to start drinking and smoking and I know that's not the type of person I am so I leave and never look back she moved anyway. Anyway.
C. We'll call her C . I'm 16. She's my friend and I drank for the first time and her hands are on my thighs and she's kissing me and my hands on her throat and I'm shaking. What the . It's only a game. You know. She has a Man. I'm bleeding in the bathroom. My excuse.
D. Let's call her D. I'm 18 and she's telling me she loves me but only when the blinds are closed.
E. Let's call her E. she's seen me naked. She's felt my body and told me she loves me. She likes being held but her boyfriend doesn't treat her right. She "loves me" but only if he can join us You know . he touches my breast and she's moaning as I'm cringing and I'm crying myself to sleep after scrubbing my skin for hours.
I'm 22. And I'm loved and I'm somewhat stable and I don't have any friends because I have the most ed up sense of attachment. I'm not sorry. I can't be your friend.
Copyright © Wendy Boutin | Year Posted 2018
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Wendy Boutin Poem
If depression was a garden and hope was a flower,
It wouldn't bloom here.
It would decay and rot from the inside.
Petals fragile crumbling
Never soft, never vibrant
Grey.
The garden isn't all things life
It's past tense
The storm that followed the rain but never stopped
Puddles turning into sinkholes.
All consuming.
Rage is here in the gaps of the soil
Sadness burried within decrepit roots
Depression is wishing something would bloom.
Anything.
Just once...
Fist to the ground screaming "Please"
This substrate isn't built to sustain life.
Strife.
This garden is full of sustaining doubts and droughts all the same.
Wasting away in my head.
I'm wasting away inside it.
Do you see it?
Can you tell that this very moment I'm swaying,
Nearly intoxicated by the lump in my throat.
But here I am in lawn and garden.
Watering flowers.
Wishing I had something inside me that would be vibrant like these roses and not the dead petals beneath my feet.
Trying to will my wasting into wildflowers.
Copyright © Wendy Boutin | Year Posted 2022
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Wendy Boutin Poem
I'm not sure where I am sometimes Mentally.
I Lose the line between whats fiction and Reality.
I look around the room after moments of being thoughtless,
just to realize i never left and the keys still in my pocket.
I chase the shadows from the walls and watch them disappear in to the cracks
I scream at the door, my heart is racing, they call them "Panic attacks"
I rewrite these same passages in books that over flow ,
Each one is slightly different that i can't just let them go.
I Call my mother bawling and I can't find the strength to stand
I'm Sobbing on the floorboards with a blade within my hands,
I count the seconds that turn into minutes turning them over in my mind,
I know Shes on her way but what if she doesn't get here in time?!
I'm lost, I can't see because this once brightly lit room its littered with spots of black,
I can't remember how to breathe each breaths coming out is gasps.
Every thing is tight and I feel like i'm suffocating,
Like a ropes around my neck and my feet are beneath me hanging.
I try to take deep breaths and i feel the fire in my lungs,
Burning me with every inhale another scream leaps from my tongue,
I Call Justin Crying and I Don't even know what happened,
One minute i was fine the next i heard someone else's fingers tapping.
I found myself confined to the room that keeps me safe,
That same room is the room i now can't escape..
I'm Dialing 911 and my hands are shaking so bad the phone is Blurry.
I'm yelling at myself "Mom, I need You, Please get here, Please Hurry!"
I'm terrified, I'm running so many Scenarios through my head,
I Feel just like a child, Afraid from the monsters beneath my bed.
I can hear the van outside, I hear foot steps in the hall,
Then all at once the Noises stop like they were never there at all!
I open the door to an embrace that brings my back to Reality.
I'm so ing sorry..
Because Loving Me Is A Tragedy.
Copyright © Wendy Boutin | Year Posted 2019
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