That I retell stories of what was
You offer me a future
A golden brick path
Cool, deep rivers of safety
Wild stallion passion
And, I talk of the past
I speak of him too often
And relive what it was like
To dodge his words slung in anger
I question your motives
I distrust your offerings
I look for the hidden rust
Rot, lies, deceit
I am rendered speechless
When you are unselfish.
I cannot fully trust
Your promises made so casually
The memory of betrayal
As fresh as a slaughtered animal
The smell of blood still in my nose
How can you understand
What the light you offer me means
Without hearing about how dim it was?
How can I describe what color means:
Oxblood, Azure, Burnt Sienna, Saffron
Without making you understand
That all I had was ghost, bleached, white?
The burlap sacking that was my bed
Makes the satin sheets you offer
So soothing I could weep.
The bitter herbs that were my sustenance
Prepared my palate for the fare
You so tenderly create with your beautiful hands.
How can you understand if I don’t tell you?
The home I had on the hilltop
Willows, and oaks surrounded
Ponds and fountains.
Hidden, charming, unique
Wasn’t filled with love, but indifference
I roamed the empty rooms devoid of laughter
I’d rather live in a tent with your love.
My ears were covered with bloodied hands
To block out the hate
So, I could hear nothing but muffled echoes
How can you fathom what it was like
The first time you pried away my fingers
And held my face in your hands
And played me a symphony?
The bath you have drawn for me
Scalds every scratch, blister and wound
Invisible to the eye, they still make me wince.
I gingerly slip my bruised and bloodied feet
Into the satin slippers you provide
And accept the cashmere gown
Around my scarred shoulders.
You cannot understand
How the warmth of your body
Soaks into my frozen heart
And thaws hidden feelings
The tenderness of your touch
Fires neurons long since forgotten
I come alive under your heartbeat.
I fall into a weightless slumber
Wrapped in your iron arms
The nightmares no longer come
During the daylight or midnight
Sleep no longer holds horrors
I am not afraid to close my eyes
Do you know what you have done for me?
The past holds no bitterness
I don’t retell the stories to garner sympathy.
But, I am like a city child who
Sees a desert starry sky for the first time.
Someone who has only known walking
Riding the bullet train for the first time.
The utter awe; I must compare. I must tell.
It is said that time heals all wounds
The invisible scars that I can still see
Spiderwebs of blistering nerves
Deformed feet, twisted lips, bloodied eyelids
I walk with a limp, my voice is hoarse
But, when I hold your hand
I am whole.
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Carrie Goff, BBA is an aspiring writer who loves to connect with kindred spirits through words. It is her passion to advocate for the voiceless and forgotten. This poem is dedicated to the women who have escaped abuse and found true love, but do not have the words to express what it means to them. And, dedicated to the men who love them.
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This blog post was curated and/or edited by The Ardent Reader, Esther Hofknecht Curtis, BSOL, MSM-HCA. The views expressed in this blog post are those of the guest blogger. Visit Esther's page at www.parrotcontent.com for more information.
