Do you remember what you left in your wake?

Footprints all over her as if she was a doormat,

A brain rewired so that it could only think, feel and respond

They way you wanted it to.

Do you remember the things you drilled into her mind?

That she would never have anything without you,

That you would take the children,

That she would be sorry if she ever tried to leave.

Do you have any idea what you did to her?

Do you know the courage it took for her to get away?

Do you know how many weeks and months and years

It took for experts to undo the damage that you did?

Yes, that’s her house and her land and her life

And no, she doesn’t want to talk to you.

Don’t argue with the security guard at the gate.

Don’t you see the No Trespassing signs?

You will never trespass on her in any way ever again.

Despite you, she rose up.

Someone will send you an autograph if you request it.

But you’re never getting close to her again.

“You’ll never have anything without me.”

Oh, you were so wrong….

The sky became dark

Thunder rolled

Lightening crashed

Cold rain pelted down from the sky

And I felt a sense of relief

The sun didn't belong

In my nightmare

The past ends when the bruises heal.

After the cuts become scabs, and the scabs fall off and the scars fade.

The past ends when your memory can only hold so much and, in the years since then, it begins holding what is recent and lets go of the threats, the insults, the fears of another time.

The past ends when the visions of hoplessness are not as clear as when you lived there. They are grainy, muted, almost like something that happened to someone else who merely told you about it.

It ends. It has to end. Right?

Then the present begins... as soon as you feel "today" not struggling to breathe under all the layers of yesterday.

That will happen someday. The past will be over.

Won't it?