For anyone who has ever felt like they lived in silent survival.
I thought this might resonate with someone here. It's a meditation on the stories that survive us, the ones rewritten in our absence, and the quiet violence of having your reality dismantled long before anyone realizes it has disappeared and the perspective required to become whole again.
The Final Eulogy
By LR
So what will you say to those who don’t know?
I tried to eviscerate the love of my life —
willingly and freely shatter her existence.
Here once stood the woman who took care of my family and friends,
both living and dead.
Who internalized every jagged word I used to slice her flesh.
Who eased my whiskey-induced delusions
and apologized for my destruction.
I blurred her memories and exploited her insecurities,
keeping her perpetually off balance.
Buttoned up her bruises
and sewed her lips into silence.
Prepared the air for whispers
and quietly cast the shadows that covered the truth.
Goodbye to the woman I convinced was not worthy of love
but only my charity.
Who, because of me, normalcy evaded,
tears flooded, light extinguished — head permanently fucked with.
Who I locked out of her home
while I burned every bit of her reality
and condemned its embers.
Dissatisfied with every offering of broken bones
and dismemberment.
Another failed attempt to contort
within the confines of the mandatory straitjacket.
So what will you say to those who notice her absence?
She tried to hold you hostage
and ransom your future?
Condolences to truth while narratives steep
in deceit —
burdens borne now currency to absolve
your guilt.
Fresh ink permeates through rotted
threats,
hand-delivering clarity and exposure of
the grotesque.
A war long waged, one without rival,
nor chance of a victor.
Her being, though marred, now
dangerous.
She feeds her soul with new breath,
blood and life.
A final act of defiance.
What she gains, he loses.
Love without betrayal.
Peace without expectation.
Strength without sacrifice.
Ashes to ashes, dust to narcissists.