Poetry

No Limitations

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do
if it meant saving you.”

One of the things I learned after becoming a mother wasn’t that little miracle I held in my arms. It was the realization that the little soul we created would always come first. And when it comes to the savagery of that knowledge, there are no limits.

To save the innocence of my child, I would willingly go through hell and back again. I’ve done it before. I can do it again. That life is far more important than mine. And I would sacrifice everything, if necessary.

Remember, half the blood of a monster runs through my veins, and I know what it takes to survive. Never underestimate someone that understands the darkness. Never underestimate a mother.

© Sarah Doughty

If it keeps my child safe,
it’s worth it.

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Poetry

Searching

“I searched for happiness,
not realizing it was with me all along.”

Over the years, I sacrificed so much of myself in hopes that I would find my happiness. I spent so much time searching for it, that I missed it was with me all along. It was with you. It was within me. It was all around me. I just needed to open my eyes and truly see.

© Sarah Doughty

I found me.

Poetry

The Afterlife

“Maybe I’ll see you
in the afterlife and tell you
all I needed to say.”

All these letters I’ve written were for you. All those thoughts I wanted to say, but couldn’t force myself to speak them. All I felt in my heart, but couldn’t bear to feel rejection. Why couldn’t I tell you when it would have mattered? Would it have made a difference?

Even if I sent them into the universe, you would never see them. And I wonder if you knew how much I loved you.

So I’ll keep them with me, and never sign my name. Maybe when I’m gone too I’ll bring them with me. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll see you in the afterlife and tell you all I needed to say instead.

© Sarah Doughty

They were all for you.

Poetry

Not Okay

“Here’s the thing:
Nothing about this is okay.
You are not okay.”

Here’s the thing you don’t seem to understand. You aren’t funny. Intolerance, bigotry, and misogyny is no laughing matter. It is not okay to turn someone’s fears into a joke. It is not okay to mock someone. It is not okay taunt a victim. To make excuses for what happened to them. To make light of what they needed to do to survive.

Have you not noticed the trail of burned bridges you’ve left behind you? Have you not noticed the people you have offended? How about the fact that they are women, or men that appreciate women for who they are? Their strength. Their resilience.

No. It is not okay. You are not okay. Get some fucking perspective and some humility while you’re at it.

© Sarah Doughty

Try to learn to be better.
For the sake of everyone.

Poetry

Forevers

“It was always you.
You made me believe in forever.”

You see, I believe.
I believe in fate.
In you and me.
And no matter
what happens
during my day,
I know you will
always be there,
right by my side.
I believe in all
of those things,
because you proved
they exist.
It was always you.
You made me believe
in forever.

© Sarah Doughty

There’s a reason you’re my constant.

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.

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.