Wayward Daughter

And I’ll leave this town behind
Like I did the last
And the one before that
Though this time may be different
Because I liked the way the waves crashed along the rocky shore
How all impermanence of small moments became so obvious when you stood at the edge of the water
The way strangers on small rocks
Could all feel the heaviness
Of slipping minutes
Watching moments of our lives
Taken in by the tide
Washed away with the current
I liked how things weren’t current
When I went to the diner
Ran by the man down the street
He told me David Bowie had died
And played his music all day
Asking customers for quarters
All through February
Slow news here
How we danced to Heroes
On a sticky floor
His hands slowly making their way
To his popcorn ceilings
Freedom in inferiorities
And small town hang ups
Hanging up on you
When you called my line
How you found each number
I decided to make my own
Writing them on pink sticky notes
Trying to remember if the 5 came before the 8
Knowing someday you would take that from me
Like you always did
Always did hate goodbyes
So when I packed my car
And filled my tank
Frank from Kirks gas
Asked where I was going
I said no where in particular
Maybe somewhere amazing
Maybe somewhere not
He asked if he could call
And I said sure
But it may not be me on the other line
How Suzanne cried into my lap the night before I left
With a swollen wrist
And yellowing flesh
I told her she could come with me
It’s hard to escape men like him
Men like you
But I’ve been on my way
And you haven’t caught up just yet
She couldn’t
Didn’t have the power she said
Gave me her moms rosary
Told me to be safe
Drive slow
Keep an eye out
Do it for her
Do it for the both of us she cried
And I almost cried too
Cried too often to fall apart now
Apart from the nights that fell too silent
I had no tears left to stain my cotton
You dried me up
Diving into the sea
Just to feel the freedom of release again
When the water rushes over me
Drops off my body
Makes me feel in control again
Driven
Driven right out of this town
Driving down the 518
Hot wheels on hot pavement
Sun playing
Clouds hazy
The trees dance
The last waltz
I’ll miss their branches
The way they bent
The birds they housed
Windows down
With my fingers catching wind
Trying to hold onto something
Other than sadness
Of leaving this town behind
Though it sure does look pretty
Sitting in my rear view mirror

Author's Note

Not sure if this could be a story but it doesn’t feel right as a poem

Photo - 80svintagepulp

Reviews

[Aura]

This story speaks of moving on from a unsafe situation. It seems, she had to move a couple of times, but this time is different because she is leaving behind a city she likes and a person who is in the same situation as her is being left behind as well. Domestic violence is a serious topic that does damage to both members of the situation. The victim faces trauma, guilt, shame, humiliation, and feels hopeless that they can't get out of the situation, or get help. The perpetrator, because the victim doesn't seem to be doing anything, believes they can get away with this and instead does it again and again, damaging their humanity, they turn into a beast. In this poem, we see the girl learns to leave the violent situation, even though alot of things in this city will be missed, it's sad that Suzanne didn't come with her, it seems she is also a victim of domestic violence. You tell a story of heartbreak, trauma, and survival. It conveys a message that needs to be said, domestic violence is not, and will never be okay. Thank you for sharing!

[The Things She Noted]

Thank you so so much for your detailed comment and your receptiveness to this story, it is so appreciated! :)

[Aura]

You're welcome!

[Richard Knox]

I think it’s a wonderful poem, expressing and revealing so much in brief, descriptive passages. But I’d also like to read more of this woman’s story…this is very tantalizing.

[The Things She Noted]

Thank you so much for your kind comment, it is appreciated! :)

[light and ashes]

Why not? It's interesting either way.