Another work in progress. Will I edit a freakin' poem already?

The filling fell out of my tooth
Valley in my mouth
Wind feels like fire
Food tastes like thorns
My body accurately depicting my spirit
Perfectly describing who I am as poet and woman
The whole of me is open and raw and nerves exposed
Sensitive to touch
Ever ready flinch at the reach
I am the strongest fragile I know
Hanging on by moment
Promising nothing to tomorrow
Withstanding wicked pain
Anger
Hypo mania
Depression
Bipolar
Despite the roller coaster
I am here
Going up too far down too low
At least I am
Courageous enough to feel
It all

Bold enough to show up
Raw sugar scraped down my throat
At twenty-two
No time to brush after
His arm cross my neck
Leg on my thigh
Grunt in my ear
I never wanted his sex
But it was easier than death
I took it
Guided my rubber legs to his door
Held my face in his hands
Smiled then said
"What you gon do, go tell?"
And I didn't

Went to bed without floss
Without speak
Too numb to think

And sometimes I am angry because I thought I was done being angry
Thought I was done being triggered by smells and shoulder touches
Thought I had graduated to done
Isn't there a done
There is a done, right?
Thought I was past this place
And sometimes I am
Months go by
And then the taste of strawberry soda
And an index finger and thumb on my chin
Reminds me of then
And how rose bush I felt

I am angry because any of this shit
Is even attached to my whisper of a name

I stuffed molestation with cakes and cookies
Whole milk and vanilla
I was having oral sex at four
Them fast assed seventh grade chicks
Couldn't tell me shit

Couldn't fix my lips to tell my parents
Opened mouth closed eyes
One hand on my head
Penis too big for my throat
There was no room for the words
Grit my teeth harder and harder
Each abuse after the next
This molar never had a chance

At nine I don't want this grown man's tongue on my tongue
But good girls like me don't say no to bible study teachers
Especially those who are preachers
I bite down
Clinch tight my jaw
Suck on Skittles and Now and later candy
Pretend it never happened
Until next Sunday it does
I have no words

I still show up for love
I'm a fucking weeble
I wobble but I don't fall down
And I have stretched and hurt like cactus and cancer and cramps
Growing into these grown woman words
That always come

I have evolved from the
Shut up and take it abuser protector
Into the quintessential over share er microphone checker

I wish a mother fucker would try to silence me
My story is not unique

And if this is your life
The healing comes in stages
Or in my case on stages
My son is always telling me that I turn everything
Into a poem or a life lesson
I can't let keys be lost without
Making that a metaphor on being still
Or sweep dust without reflecting on the finite of our bodies

And he is right
Because I couldn't spend a morning in the dental chair
Mouth numb speech incoherent
Without thinking about nights
And years and fingers
Tongues and teachers
Bees and birds
Remembering when I couldn't use my words