Dark secrets

A Faded Romantic's Notebook


I have learned

to love the way

night descends

fast and early

at this time of year,

cloaking trees, hedges and fields

hiding streams and rivers

blurring edges

disguising shapes

swallowing buildings

and concealing

all our dark

and dangerous




© the author writing as Romantic Dominant

Posted first three years ago, but … well, it is that time of year, and there are sometimes dark secrets.

Art by Victoria Selbach

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Worth It

Sarah Doughty

“Surviving hell was worth it.
Because it brought me to you.”

There was a beauty in breaking down. In allowing myself to crumble. I let it all out. Like a hurricane, it flew out of me. Every heartbreak, every blow, every harsh word ever thrown in my direction. It felt freeing, like a weight was lifted from both my chest and my shoulders. I watched it go as it carried on the violent wind. And I felt the universe wrap her arms around me. It was worth it, she told me. Stripping my soul down to the core. Though I would always feel the demons lurking in the night, and the memories would always haunt me, it was worth it. And she was right.

Surviving hell was worth it. Because it brought me to you.

© Sarah Doughty

She is always right.

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Sarah Doughty

“No, darling, we didn’t grow apart.
You left me here in the dark.”

No, darling, we didn’t just grow apart. You left me here in the dark without a hint of hesitation. If you stopped to look beyond your own chocolate-coated lies, you might see this gaping hole in my back, dripping with freezing blood. I’m willing to bet you missed that you carved your name into my heart as well.

© Sarah Doughty

That was the point,
though, wasn’t it?
You didn’t bother to notice
because you didn’t care.

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Freedom-an interpretation

Megha's World

First published in Two drops of Ink, Oct 2018

aaron-burden-678299-unsplash.jpgWhat does freedom mean to

me, a dandelion

as I continue my tryst with the

boastful wind

as it carries my identity on

it’s fleeting wings

I tried with all my might

to hold onto my identity

but the cruel and the mighty winds

uprooted and carried me

I’m carried by my need

and desire to be rooted again

I’m an immigrant in my own

godforsaken land

I reach with all my failing might

with my bits severed and falling

and rooting

clutching to the ground for its sustenance

See,I have to survive this

this atrocity called war and

peaceful settlement

and rise through it

find a new patch of soil

call itself my home


dug my roots deeper to survive

the cold transformation

of the ever-changing world

these boundaries and lines don’t make

sense to me

when my identity…

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