Poetry of Stephanie Bennett Henry, Uncategorized

Selective Memory 

I stood in your shadow for years while you thought you were in mine. 

Funny how we remember so differently. 

Maybe it hurts less to forget, so we remember things in a way that shines the light in our favor. But anyone who knows me knows the way my mind takes pictures to capture each moment in my life as a live recording that plays back over and over. I don’t forget anything. And that’s not something I choose. Trust me when I say,  I would love nothing more than to wipe it all away. A fresh, clean slate for my mind. 

I would make it so beautiful. But I don’t have a super power like that. Some people have the ability to move forward, make new memories, and forget the old ones, but not me. My heart never lets me pack the ghosts up and walk away. I have made new memories over the years, but I did it the hard way. Bricks tied to my shoes, pulling me back, weighing me down. Forward has always been a struggle for me. This baggage is heavy, but I never gave in to the weakness. I kept going despite the heaviness of the ghosts that will never stop haunting me. I made my own way. I did that. I never had it handed to me. We took opposite routes. So, don’t compare your journey with mine. I didn’t have the easy route rolled out for me like a red carpet to simply walk on. I had the route you’ve never heard of. The one I worked for, the one I crawled through on hands and knees, begging not to be disregarded. I took the path that’s not paved with bullshit, the one that didn’t have the privilege of a silver spoon shoved down my throat and holding my hand. I held my own fucking hand. Remember that when you’re telling the story and trying to reverse our roles. Remember me as the child you looked straight in the eyes and said “fuck you!”  Because if you’re going to tell the story, tell the truth, not some bullshit fiction that makes you look like the fucking hero. You never did anything to save me, but you sure were fast to throw on a cape and ruin me. 

Well, you can take the cape off now. The ruin is done. If that makes you feel like a hero, then congratulations, you won; the crown of lies fits you perfectly. 

Stephanie Bennett-Henry © 2016 

2 thoughts on “Selective Memory ”

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