In the soles of your boots I followed you, piecemeal, down the stairs. Down and down you went unaware that your cruelty held me hostage. It's not an exaggeration to say that you were a psychopath and I am certain that there are others who suspected. Only a shell could protect against your trespass and I have one that would make a mollusk weep with envy. For years I was as empty as a widow's uterus but in your absence I find myself filling with blood and air. All that is vital, all that you withheld is mine, at last, to feel. I could never return to your side knowing now what it is to live. There’s a crawl space inside of me just big enough for a clenched fist. Within its clammy walls I keep all my feelings, good and bad. I wear this space as if it were a badge. It is a point of pride that I survived you and whatever comes next I know that I shall be the better for it. I have yet to unravel the scars that you laid with each betrayal. Sometimes it feels as if they are all that I am. Then I remember that you are dead and I take another faltering step forward. I hope that in quietus you remember the pain that you alone have inflicted and I hope that it haunts you, at least as long as you have haunted me.
About the Poet:
Yves K. Morrow lives in Sweden with her husband and soon-to-be teenage daughter. Mindlovemisery reflects on the subjects most extensively explored in her poetry. Mind – philosophy, psychology, mental illness, society / Love – loss, unrequited, infatuations and obsessions, sex, true love, new love, relationships of all sorts both dysfunctional and sublime / Misery – childhood trauma, depression, living with PTSD, the search for meaning, loneliness, spiritual dilemmas, grief, social ineptitude, etc. Aside from writing and inspiring others to write, Yves enjoys reading, training, dancing poorly, absurdity and sarcasm.