“you are my sunshine”
were the nicest words
he ever said to me
i found them scribbled across a plank of wood
in a shop by the bournemouth seaside and i bought it,
believing them to be my anchor when everyone else told me
i should have run
they are the words i clung to when adrift in his anger;
the words i found comfort in late at night when the bruises throbbed and my bedroom door hummed with the hammerings outside it;
that from which i should have run trying desperately to break in
my cat clambered on top of my bookcase this evening and toppled down that old plank of wood,
those long forgotten words now hide behind the dust that gathers in the places i can not reach
i didn’t right them
they stay forgotten
face down, out of sight
the words that used to envelope me in a tight squeeze
the words that once gave me not just a purpose — but a justification for the way i was living and allowing myself to be treated…
they reside in the dust
knocked down by my cat;
the music has died.
i never liked that song much anyway.
Rose Water Magazine 