Poetry

Soulmates

“And this is how I know
soulmates exist.”

Someone once asked me if I believed in the concept of soulmates. My answer was simple: yes. And this is how I know.

You see, I’ve felt the rain from the same storms, seen the same lightning flash across the sky. I’ve felt the same wind that whipped through your hair. Knowing you’ve probably paused and thought the same about me, too.

I’ve watched the same shooting stars and wished upon them, letting my thoughts linger over you. I have seen the color of fire. How the undulating flames hypnotized me. And I know you’ve felt that same warmth. I know you’ve smelled the same smoke. I know our dreams have intersected more than once. So, even when we are apart, somehow, we are always connected. In this life, and in spirit, our souls are entwined. This is how I know soulmates exist.

© Sarah Doughty

No matter where we go, we are together.

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Poetry

Experiences

“Poetry deserves to be felt.
Experienced.
Just like you.”

Let me tell you a little bit about how I fell in love with poetry. It wasn’t one thing, either. No one piece stood out to me and hit me like a ton of bricks. It was the little things. How the light moved through your hair and the dust particles danced in the air around you. It was the shade of your eyes. Reminding me why the sky is so beautiful during a clear day. It was the way you saw me. The way you let me see you. It was the way your hands moved, like they were meant to be touched. Where your fingertips ran over my skin, I could feel the electricity. It was your arms. Their strength. The way they could make my world stop spinning. Your heartbeat. The way it could call mine. It was all of those things and more.

Poetry deserves to be felt. Experienced. Just like you.

© Sarah Doughty

So tonight, let me feel you.

My piece Distant Memory has been published
at Whisper And The Roar for this week’s
domestic violence prompt.

Poetry

Distant Memory

“One day, this will become
a distant memory.
Just like me.”

I’ve kept myself in the darkness for far too long. Too afraid to see the marks left behind on my skin. The scars that have healed over, and fresh ones, still red and angry, that cover them. The bruises that never seem to fade. Though I know, with every passing day, pieces of me are lost. I still can’t bring myself to try to save myself. What would be the point? I’ve been down this road before — and nothing can crush your dreams better than lost hope.

My spirit has broken. My sense of self has been gone so long, I don’t know who I am anymore. All this, from a man that enjoyed his cigarettes and beer a little too much. A man that enjoyed my youth and my inability to fight back. A man that wanted to puff up his chest and feel like his fists kept him in power.

Now, I don’t cower. I don’t fight. I submit. I thought, maybe, if I was lucky, he’d lose interest, but it just made him try that much harder to make me cry out in pain. So, you see, there’s no room in my life for hope. And in these moments, when I’m reduced to tears, grieving all that has been lost, I’m reminded that one day, this too will become a distant memory.

Just like me.

© Sarah Doughty

Nothing can crush your dreams better than lost hope. Don’t ever let it go.

Poetry

The Catalyst

“You gave me something to fight for.
Us. And you will always be worth it.”

While growing up, I dared to dream. In all those late nights, counting the stars and watching the moon slide across the sky, I dreamt. I thought of growing up and what that might feel like. What my life might be without all the uncertainty and fear. What my life might be if I found love. How that might change the way I saw myself. I dreamt of chasing those dreams — and what it might feel like to have them come true.

And that was what gave me the courage to keep fighting. Surviving. Because, how could my dreams ever become a reality if I was gone? What good was hope without fighting for my life?

Like the moon and stars, hope was, and always will be with me. Maybe that’s naive of me, but it’s true. Sometimes I doubt myself. That hope is just another one of those things that will fade or it will crush me in the end. But I’m still here. A little broken. A little damaged. But breathing. Alive. And I didn’t have to chase my happiness like I thought I would. You see, the day you came into my life, everything changed. You empowered me. You fueled my passion, not realizing what it really meant to me. You were just the beginning. The catalyst.

You gave me something to fight for. Us. And you will always be worth it.

© Sarah Doughty

There is always hope. Always.

Poetry

This Broken Life

“But I do know one thing:
you deserve better than me.”

Sometimes I am reminded of how our relationship has changed. And not all for the better. I wake up, knowing you aren’t right next to me, because you might scare me in the night. We sit on the same couch, but most evenings I feel like we’re miles apart. We don’t hold hands like we once did — at every possible moment. We no longer kiss the way we did those first few years. The only meaningful contact we have is few and far between. Though none of it is through any fault of yours, I still miss the way we were and I want those days to come back.

The problem is me. It’s always been me. But it seems that even memories can break a person. And this marriage has suffered because of those cracks and chips. Though you keep reminding me there’s nowhere else you’d rather be, I’m still reminded of how things have changed. How things should be different for you. For both of us. For our family. And I just want you to know how sorry I am. I don’t know how we can find our way back. I don’t know if that’s possible. But I do know one thing: you deserve better than me. You should have that perfect life. Because you can’t have that with me.

© Sarah Doughty

I’m sorry that I broke her. —C-PTSD.

Poetry

Aching Love

“And I know. That ache of loving you
will become permanent.”

Sometimes memories just stick with me. Though I may not notice them all the time. But when the anniversary of our ending comes around, I’m reminded of what I never shared with you. I’m reminded of what we lost in those years we’ve been apart. The things you and I relied on. Like how we took solace in holding each other. Or those moments we just talked and laughed until the sun peeked over the horizon. Perhaps we took those moments for granted. Perhaps we took “us” for granted. Perhaps we let our problems outweigh our devotion to one another. Either way, the pain remains, especially when something reminds me of you. And I know. The pain will lessen the further we go, but it will always be there. That ache will become a part of us. That ache of loving you will become permanent.

© Sarah Doughty

In the middle of the night, the ache is what gets me.

Inspired by @hallieartwork.

Poetry

A Way Out

“I can feel you in my bones,
yet I can feel you slipping away.”

I can feel you in my bones, yet I can feel you slipping away. And I’m left wondering if we’ve used up all of our chances. Did we set this fire without knowing what we were doing? Are we trapped with nowhere to go? Is this all that’s left of us? Are we reduced to nothing but anger? Or is there a way out? To stifle the flames and breathe air again. To find the love we both felt so intensely we practically vibrated when we were near each other. So, my love, tell me, is there anything left worth fighting for?

© Sarah Doughty

Is there anything left of us?

Poetry, Updates

Captive Freckles – A Collaboration With Aurora Phoenix

“I wondered what made her blush,
and I knew I wanted to see it again.”

There was something about the way her freckled cheeks turned red that caught my attention. I wondered what made her blush. If it was something I said, or something that crossed her mind. It made the green of her eyes brighten like dew tickling grass on a warm summer morning.

suffused with roses
her emerald gaze
drew inward
coppery lashes lowered
demure veils
obscuring the windows
into her inner fracas.
her cheeks scrawl a chapter
unabridged
in a language
I studied once –
long since forgot.
I scrabble
the freckled pattern –
cues to the lost tongue.

© Sarah Doughty & Aurora Phoenix
(prose poem is mine, poem beneath via A.P.)

It was an honor to collaborate
with the talented Aurora Phoenix.
It was originally published
at Whisper And The Roar.
Click here to see the original piece.
Poetry

This Wanting

“And I can’t help myself.
I just want all of you.”

All the thoughts in my head freeze up when you come into view. I’m caught off guard, you see. Because you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on. And I can’t help myself. I just want all of you. Right now. You can bring your honey and all your fire, but it won’t be enough. I will never tire of you. Together, we will set this world aflame. And we’ll only be beginning.

© Sarah Doughty

The time is now, so don’t keep me waiting.