Beauty In The Details

“There’s beauty in the details.
Every piece of you has a story to tell.
Your story.”

There’s beauty in the details, if you’re just willing to look. Every scar, every blemish has a story to tell.

Your story.

Everything about you is written on your body. Within you.

That day when someone comes along and takes the time to learn about those scars, those blemishes, and those stories, they’re special.

They know you. They see you. And they’re not running away.

© Sarah Doughty

I’m not going anywhere.


All I Have

all i have

“All I have of us are tiny grains of sand.
All that we were. All that we could be.”

All I have of us are tiny grains of sand. One brush of your fingers on my cheek here. One gentle kiss — warm, soft lips against mine there. A laugh here, a cry there.

Those grains were us. All that we were. All that we could be.

And as I feel those grains slipping between my fingers, I feel us disappearing with them. I feel those moments slipping away.

I’m faced with an age old question — do I fight? Fight to keep you mine. In my arms. In my life.

Or, do I let you slip away, right along with the sand?

I choose to fight.

Until my last breath  — or you tell me it’s over — I’m going to fight for what we were, what we are, and what we could be.

I’m going to crystallize that sand into glass so we’ll be one for all time.

Because that’s all I have left. And you’re worth the fight. You’re worth all of it.

© Sarah Doughty

All I have is us.



“I’m here. Lost, and never found.
Alive, but not living.”

Open your mind, take in all that is happening around you. The sights, sounds, scents, tastes, and feel on your skin. Then take it all away.

This is how I feel behind this wall, fortified to protect me from harm. Defend me from anyone and anything that could tear me down and leave me with a renewed sense of justification for those walls.

I’ve been reminded of how useful my prison is, and at times, I find cracks in its structure. Little things that pass through. Sometimes they’re spectacular, and sometimes, they take my breath away and spark my deepest, darkest fears.

The problem is I cannot decide if I should mortar over those cracks and seal them shut to protect me from the monsters that await me, or if I should let them be and relish in those beautiful moments that slip through.

I’m here. Lost, and never found. Alive, but not living. Numb, but overwhelmed with all my senses.

© Sarah Doughty

It’s your eyes that keep me from so much darkness.



Photo and model credit Lucz of @meet_me_in_the_morgue

“Your love was like a cigarette,
addictive, yet bad for my health.”

Your love was like a cigarette, addictive, yet bad for my health. Every breath was filled with you and your drug flowed through my veins. But with each drag I took and still crave, you’re a habit I need to quit. With each exhalation, I’m abandoning the wreckage you left behind, letting it go. Because I’m better than that.

© Sarah Doughty

I’m better than that.


False Pretenses

“You know who you are.
You are the sum of all that has happened.
So don’t let doubters drag you down.”

Mutual respect and friendship isn’t always genuine. It’s a hard lesson I’ve learned time and time again.

Sometimes all it takes is one look. A split second, and it’s all over. You see it. That flash of disgust flickering across their face. That’s when you know, it was all a lie. You wait, hoping it was wrong. That it was a trick of light.

But it didn’t take long to realize the truth, did it? “I was nothing to you,” you think. It took some processing to accept it, but if you’re being honest with yourself, that instant of distaste was enough to lose all respect for them.

I’m here to tell you that they weren’t worth it. Don’t mourn them, because they don’t deserve it. You know who you are. You are the sum of all that has happened to you, and you have come out the other side intact. Or you’re on your way. So no matter what they think of you, or if they used you, took advantage, it doesn’t matter.

Shake it off, and make a friend out of the rest of your pain. Hug it. Build your world around it and the people you know are family, whether they’re blood or not. Even if you lock yourself away from the rest of the world. Make beauty from your pain, and show the world — not just them — that you can overcome anything. And you have. You’ve won. They didn’t take that piece of you that still shone in the darkness. You bloomed beneath the moonlight, and they had no part of it.

That’s when you know, even though it’ll take time, you are worth it. And they aren’t.

© Sarah Doughty


Fury Of Us

“And the night,
the night will always be
the time I remember you.”

The night was alive with the fury of us. Our wild eyes — always hungry for something more, never pretended to be anything other than real — told the stories no one else ever wanted to hear. But you did. And so, we filled the night with our true selves. We brought light to the stars and connected the dots. We lived, when the rest of the world was sleeping. And the night, the night will always be the time I remember you.

© Sarah Doughty
Originally part of a collaboration
with @footsteps.of.my.namesake.

It will always bring a smile to my face.


It Remembers

“My body, it remembers.
It remembers so much good
after so much horror.”

My body, it remembers. It remembers all those nights of heinous, unwanted invasions. What it was like when my skin crawled like a million tiny spiders. It remembers how it protected itself. What it was like to be a woman when it was still a child. To break into a thousand tiny pieces. To feel like dying, if only to end the pain.

My body, it remembers. It remembers the gentle touch of someone worthy. The meaning of worship and love. The sense of empowerment and elation, like a woman should feel. It remembers a tiny life, growing and strong. Every tiny movement, especially when that life reminded me everything was alright. The miracle. It remembers birth, joy, and relief. The astonishment of what it created. Perfection.

My body, it remembers. It remembers so much good after so much horror.

© Sarah Doughty

There’s always hope for a better future.


Unanswered Questions

“Tell me, do you remember
the promises you made of forever?”

Do you remember my fingertips as they caressed your skin? Or the bite of my nails down your back? How about the brush of my lips against yours? Or when I gripped the back of your neck and threaded my fingers into your hair for a deeper taste? What about the nights we told stories, and laughed until dawn? Or the promises you made of forever? After all these nights sitting in silence, do you ever think about all we had, and everything we lost? Have you ever thought, just once, that maybe, I was the one that got away?

© Sarah Doughty

Was I the one that got away?


Boneyard Sacrifices

“Steady your pulsating heart,
for those beats of my witch drums
will be your last.”

My bare feet slice against splintered bones, strewn across the ground like a macabre, snow-covered field. I feel the warmth of my blood oozing out of those jagged wounds, but that warmth doesn’t penetrate my frigid, numb flesh. I hear the crunching as those calcified remains crumble beneath me and I begin to smell the copper permeate into the world around me, intoxicating and overwhelming my senses. Lifting my arms toward the full moon, my blood glistening like the night’s dew around me, I make my sacrifice to honor the dead, my ancestors that fill this boneyard. The wind picks up, bristling through the neighboring trees. Then, I begin to hear their whispers. And I wonder if you do, too. Do you feel that pounding beneath your tired feet as well? With my crown of crows, you’ll realize you’ve never known fear, like the kind I conjure when you see me. Steady your pulsating heart, for those beats of my witch drums will be your last.

© Sarah Doughty
Boneyard Sacrifices 2015
/Drums 2016

These beats, they are every word, every hit, and every plot meant to break me.

This piece was updated to combine two pieces together. I hope you enjoy this creepy tale.