Mirrors and Pastel Dust
Another villainelle - I'm getting the hang of it, I think.
I was 4 years old the first time a man ruined my worth.
Sitting on the knee of my ‘uncle,’ confused by his hand.
“I love you so much. Don’t tell, or your mom will get hurt.”
Though if I am honest, more damage comes from my dad.
He wanted a son, but instead got a useless daughter.
Though according to him, he probably wasn’t ‘that bad.’
The next one was coy and a charmer.
First loves are like the side of the moon that’s darker.
Deceit taints the plucking of my flower.
When I got married, I changed my personality and name.
His words still echo when I look in a mirror.
He shattered my reflection and filled me with shame.
The next man to break me showered me in pastel dust.
Taught me that I’d never be good enough.
He snorted poison and left my soul to rot to rust.
You’d think at some point I’d learn not to trust.
But I knew in my heart that I had to be strong;
It took years, but life is better without mirrors or pastel dust
About the Creator
Hope Martin
Find my fantasy book "Memoirs of the In-Between" on Amazon in paperback, eBook, and hardback, in the Apple Store, or on the Campfire Reading app.
Follow the Memoirs Facebook age here!
I am a mother, a homesteader, and an abuse survivor.
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Epilogue
I sat in my office, twisting the wooden ring that Leon had carved for me on my finger. I was uncomfortable, hot, and cranky. And I was bored. Leon was making me a cup of tea in the adjoined kitchen. Estrakulius was resting peacefully next to me against the desk. I had taken up residence in CiCi’s old office as it was easier than moving everything into mine. It had been interesting to find things about CiCi after she was gone. It made me feel like she was still here and comforted me. And she was right, all of the millions and millions of reports were very helpful, no matter how much I hated them.
By Hope MartinExclusive • 2 months ago
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There comes a point in every ascent when you realize not everyone is meant to rise with you. It is not cruelty. It is not abandonment. It is simply the truth of altitude: some people cannot breathe where you are going. Some people cannot tolerate the clarity you’ve earned. Some people cannot follow you into a life that no longer requires your disappearance.
By Elisa Wontorcik3 days ago in Poets
If You Love Me, You'll Do It
I met Jason when I was five years old. I could say that I loved him from the moment I saw him. He was so handsome to me and I felt in awe by his presence. When they introduced him as the new kid in school, I wanted to be his friend right away. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember his smile and how he didn't seem shy. He appeared confident and ready to learn. I waved at him and said "hello," before anyone else could even say a word. He sat next to me, and I asked him if he wanted to be friends. He looked so happy as he said, "Yes!"
By Sidney Smith (Sid Smith)6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Raw and impossible not to feel this one! Damn. Hope, this is rage, healing, and firewall protection for real! Thank you for sharing just doesn't seem enough, but thank you!