I Remember The Night

 

 

 

 

 

 

I remember the night,
the last time it happened;
summer sizzled through the air
and met with your shortened temper.
I was always more object than
person to you;
your property,
to do with as you wished, and
through a lifetime of living with you
I lost all sense of me.
It wasn’t only my bones you
smashed nightly,
(so many splintered years,
stolen selfishly)
you took from me all my worth,
all my ability to love the world.
But I remember the night,
the last time it happened;
loose threads of strength
fluttered through the open window and
landed on my sterile hospital bed.
Now I’m living
me, without you;
my soul is patched up,
sewn together—with love— over time.
I rarely spare you the grace of my thoughts.
I am loving another, moving on,
surviving, living, happy,
and all this is me
without you.