Jennifer Bouchard

DIRTY BLEEDING GIRL

I wrote a poem in November of 2019
After I finished the poem I had an epiphany
That what happened to me was The “R” word.
I googled the definition of The “R” word:
“Methods Used. To Ignore Or Remove. The Person’s Ability.
To Make An Autonomous Decision.
About What Happens To Their Body.”

Instead of sharing the poem with my family
I shared it with a room full of strangers
I’ve always had a thing for strangers
Almost like the less I know the person the easier it is
to make an etch a sketch of what feels safe
and when the etch a sketch gets all shaken up
I whisk away.

I was such an easy pick
Meek and humble
A loner sheep to his lone wolf
So weak I was

The week I realized what happened to me was The “R” word
I wrote a poem
Shared it with a room full of strangers
Then ordered a shit ton of furniture I could not afford
Boxes upon boxes appearing at my door I did not have the energy to open
I had an intense need to clear out all the clutter built up through the years
to make me forget memories
Furniture that was not mine
Little tinctures I had no use for
Clothes that did not belong to me
Hand me downs.

As I put them in trash bags
I confirmed
I cannot go back to who I was before
I cannot stay who I am now
I have to find out who this new person is
This new person who is not a dirty bleeding girl.

One time I bled on a man’s clean white sheets
He called me a dirty bleeding girl
After he ignored me for a week
When I sent him a sexy photo to remind him I still existed.

I am wholesome I am clean I am whole
I am filled with pride
I’ve landed on an entirely different planet
Where everything’s the same yet It all looks smells and feels different

Can you smell the freshness of my new life?
The vanilla scented peppermint
lavender
therapeutic
cooling vibe?

Can you feel the wooden floors in between the holes of my socks?
The 15 pound weighted blanket holding me like the hug I’ve always craved?
Can you hear the low buzzing of the Himalayan salt lamp?
Can you sense the rooms of my apartment transforming to little homes?

Telling my story of
I am light coming out of the dark.
I am not a secret.
I am a badge of honor.
I am truth at the core of my essence.

I could've paid someone to assemble the furniture
With the money I didn’t have
But I wanted to look out into my living room and say
“I built this foundation with my own bare hands”

I need a new bathroom rug
I noticed
While curled up in a fetal position
I felt like I was in a movie about my becoming
A pivotal moment where things turn around for the better
Chest heaving in rhythmless intervals
Balling like a new born babe coming out from the womb
A butterfly out from her cocoon
Wobbling out to the living room

I am Wholesome
I am Clean
I am Whole
No holes penetrated unless you’ve earned the right to

I am not a sheep straying from the heard
I am a lion
With the grace of a gazelle
And from this foundation
I build
My new home.