Poetry

A Life

“Of all the stories we have ever created,
there’s one that outshines them all:
we created a life.”

No matter how many times I try to give my emotions justice through words, I always feel as though they aren’t enough. They don’t delve as deep as my heart resides. And it is there, in that endless abyss of love that those words fail to breach beyond the surface. I cannot tell you how much you mean to me. I cannot tell you how much I love you for more than just your vows. You see, since the beginning, you were my rock. You gave me the courage to allow myself to love you. And of all the memories we share — of all the stories you and I have ever created, there’s one that outshines them all: we created a life. Our child.

If I have failed to express my love for you, how could I ever hope to come close to describing what it means to be a mother. How it felt to have our child grow within me. The relief and sudden fear that, ready or not, we were going to be parents. And ultimately, what it means to have created life with you. Something that never ceases to amaze me.

How could words ever do it justice?

© Sarah Doughty
2018

My son will be nine
in a matter of days.
How fast time flies
when you watch your child grow.

Poetry

Values And Beliefs

“Anyone worth your time knows you are special.
So don’t forget your value as a person.”

You look beautiful in any light. You light up the room when you flash a genuine smile. Those flaws and blemishes make you who you are, like a fingerprint — one of a kind. Those scars are proof of your survival. Your intellect and talents can’t touch your beauty — and why should they? Your ability to make an impact in this world has nothing to do with your face or your body. Those qualities only enhance the belief of anyone worth your time that you are something special. So don’t forget that. Don’t forget how valuable you are as a person. Don’t forget who you are by letting the rest of the world drag you down.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

You are worth it.

Poetry

Flawed Sight

“But let me tell you this: you’re lovely,
no matter what your eyes see.”

Over the years, you’ve accumulated enough ammunition to use against yourself. All those comments about how you could be pretty if only you did this or that. How you could be happy if you just smile more. How your every flaw, blemish, and scar takes away from your looks. How you can’t measure up, no matter how hard you try. They don’t define your worth. They never have. But somewhere along the way, you started to notice how those comments changed the way you saw yourself. You started to believe in them so much that even your reflection mirrored their words. And that’s the greatest tragedy of all. Losing your sense of self. But let me tell you this: you’re lovely, no matter what your eyes see.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

You are beautiful
just the way you are.

Poetry

The Ache

“And I hope my heart is enough.
Because that’s all I have left to give.”

My heart lingers in the air, reaching out to you, but it’s trapped by me and my walls. And I wonder if you can feel my ache. How I miss you. How I miss the way things used to be. I wonder if you can sense how much I still need you. Yet, at the same time, wish I could just be. Loving you the way you deserve. I don’t know if this will ever change — if our reality will stay the same. But I know it’s taken me too long. And with no end in sight, I release my heart. I cut that tether and watch it float away. Watch it drift towards you. And I hope that’s enough. Because that’s all I have left to give.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

I do hope that’s enough.

Poetry

Pillow Thoughts

“Sometimes, when my head hits the pillow,
I wonder if you’d be happier if I was gone.”

Every night, when my head hits the pillow, thoughts run through my mind. About us. What we were. What we could have been. How everything has changed — and not all for the better. Sometimes I wonder if you’d be happier if I wasn’t here. And sometimes, once my thoughts quiet, I dream of that reality. I see the smiles. The way you don’t carry stress in your shoulders. Like you’re waiting for the shoe to drop. The freedom in your eyes. Like you’re no longer burdened by me. And when I wake, the thoughts stir once more.

Those dreams. They feel so real. Even though what I see is beautiful, it breaks my heart to wonder if that would be your reality if I was gone.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

Maybe it’s The silence
of the night
that makes me pause.

Poetry

Hold On

“Maybe in another lifetime we’ll have our chance.
If nothing else, we can hold on to that.”

But that’s the thing. We never stood a chance. Fate had other plans for us. Different paths we needed to take, never quite intersecting together. Maybe that’s why I’m plagued by the what ifs and what could have beens. We could have been epic. We could have been happy together. That just wasn’t in the cards for us. Maybe in another lifetime we’ll have our chance. Either way, my spirit will always be connected with yours. So, if nothing else, we can hold on to that.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

Maybe in another lifetime.

Poetry

Fight Flight Freeze

“There’s a reason it’s called fight, flight,
or freeze. Inaction is not your fault.”

Sometimes there’s a fine line between what feels right and what doesn’t. In those fifteen seconds that matter, you might be surprised how quickly those seconds tick by. And by then, it could be too late. But remember this: it wasn’t your fault. No matter the excuse, if it didn’t feel right, it wasn’t right. There’s a reason they call it fight, flight, or freeze. It’s not your fault if you couldn’t speak. It’s not your fault if you didn’t fight it. It’s not your fault for letting it happen. Our bodies have a natural defense mechanism and in those moments, you were following your instincts. Never apologize for your inaction. Don’t analyze what you could have done differently. You survived. That’s what matters. You. Are. Not. At. Fault.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

Say it out loud.
Say it again.

Poetry

Falling For It

“And here’s the thing, I know what you’re doing,
so why do I fall for it every time?”

There are people out there that can make you feel like the most precious thing in the world. But as soon as they turn their back, you feel empty inside. That’s how you make me feel. One moment you’re here, lighting up my world like nothing I’ve ever experienced. And the next, I don’t exist. I no longer matter. Whether or not you say the words, I still feel that emptiness in my chest. And here’s the thing, I know what you’re doing to me, so why is it that I fall for it every time?

© Sarah Doughty
2018

Maybe I can’t help
but hope that this time,
the outcome will be different.

Poetry

The Essence Of Regret

“And this. This is what regret feels like.”

Empty rooms and undiscovered tombs lie beneath your bare feet and I know you can feel the energy they emit. It’s that sinking feeling in your chest. The one that feels like a gaping hole where your heart once rested safely in your ribcage. It’s that drain. Like something is leeching your very essence from your body. These are the memories. The ones that linger in this place of death and destruction. The ones that follow you wherever you go. These are the relics of the past. The ones you tried so hard to bury beneath you. They never leave. And no matter how deep you go, or how far you try to run, they will haunt you until the end.

This. This is what regret feels like.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

Regret lives with you forever.

Poetry

The Cursed

“But darling, the dead never truly die,
and the truth will always come back.”

Can you feel the chill in the air? The wet cold that seeps into your bones? Can you hear the whispers that carry on the wind? The ones that know all your secrets? They are the ghosts that linger. The ones you can’t shake, no matter how far you run. They are the memories you’ve tried to bury where no one will ever find them. But darling, the dead never truly die, and the truth will always come back for you.

Call it karma. Call it divine justice. Call it whatever you want. Those bones in your past will not stay silent about the monstrous things you’ve done. And it’s your curse to bear.

© Sarah Doughty
2018

It was never
supposed to be mine.