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
2018

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

Distant Memory was published
at Whisper And The Roar for a
domestic violence prompt.

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