These memories came flooding even faster when my ex showed up with roses and one of the best apologies to ever leave his lips.
Did you know words can hurt worse than a slap in the face? I've experienced both. Trust me, I know.
I almost fell for it. Almost.
Those first memories that came back were the good ones. Ah seventeen. The courting, (yeah) and him actually waiting two years. It's one of the reasons I never dated before then. No guy was willing to wait for sex that long.
Then of course I got knocked up at nineteen. Hmm. Should have waited a little longer. But my chickadee is the best thing so I don't regret that.
Next memories to hit me? The bad ones. Yeah. Married too early against my better judgment. I never wanted to get married. Not until I was thirty five. Maybe not at all. But it seemed like the 'right' thing to do and then there was the whole church thing....anyway.
The next few years were hell. I wrote a poem about it.
She breathes and I breathe with her
Every ragged breath a whisper
Of the misery that's promised from the moment she wakes up
And she wonders how it happened
When did they lose the magic?
When did laughter become
Something to be punished for?
She cries and I cry with her
Tears like blood soaked rivers
Trailing down the angry marks
She sometimes has to hide
Their desire used to smolder
Memories are what hold her
And she wishes that man she loved
Would come back to her again
She moves and I move with her
As she pushes herself harder
To be the picture perfect woman
He says she'll never be
His words begin to haunt her
His demands only get harsher
It's hard to keep her head held high
With the things she's forced to do
The days are lonely and long
Waiting for the next thing she'll do wrong
But darkness brings more fear
Because it's when he holds her near
She shuts her eyes and whispers to herself
If you touch him just right
You might survive the night
Put all emotion away
And you'll be okay
He doesn't mean to do this
He doesn't like getting mad
Just take what he gives you
It really doesn't hurt...so bad
She weeps and I weep with her
For the truth is that I was her
I'm learning what I thought was love
Wasn't meant to be that way
Now who she was is dead...I died with her
I've buried the remains of her with who I used to be.
Kind of a downer. I had a good long chat with a friend who set me right. Reminded me what I already know. I'm no longer a victim. He's only trying to mess with me because I'm actually moving on without him.
His only redeeming quality, in my eyes, is that our chickadee is his entire world. Every ounce of love he once directed at me is hers. How is that possible? How can a man be so good everyone else but one person?
Ugh. No use pondering that.
The End.
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