Home » Survivors Speak arts blog » A Woman Like Me by Yvette Dove

A Woman Like Me by Yvette Dove

A Woman Like Me

You don’t want to fall for a woman like me.
I  have scars marked so deep that you can not see.
They are hidden away, buried beneath the skin,
How would I show you? Where would I begin?
Do I begin at the start? Back to early years?
Do I begin explaining? What’s behind my tears?
Do I begin to uncover, each scar of my past?
Could I choke back warm tears, long enough to last?

If I began at those early years, showed them first?
Would it be easier? As they were the worst.
Would those that followed, not be difficult to show?
Would you still be the same? Even after you know?

Maybe once you’ve heard, and being able to see.
You may understand the reasons why I’m just me.
You’d start to understand, why I appear to be cold.
Learning each scar has a story, a secret untold.

Would you still look at me in the exact same way?
Would I still be as beautiful? As you saw me yesterday?
Do you still see that woman? That appears so strong?
Or a woman that’s weak? After being strong for too long.

Then could you still fall for a woman like me?
If I was to bare my soul, for only you to see.
If I told you how my innocence, was taken away?
Stolen more than once, then would you still stay?

Could you still hold me? And never let me go?
If I shared the painful truth, about years long ago.
Days and then months, slowly turning into years.
When I lay there in silence, freeing the hardest tears.

Each night laying alone, fear became my friend.
How long would it last? Would it ever end?
I was just a young girl. Laying frozen by fear.
Brown eyes tightly closed whenever I felt he was near.

I would force them closed, to pretend I was sleeping.
Laying like a statue, my heart would quicken its beating.
I’d let out a tear, for the sting to burn my cheeks.
Year after year passed by, this secret I did keep.

One that was so deeply feared, so it went on untold.
It began aged five, continuing until turning twelve.
This age came with change, from a girl to young miss.
Even then, four years later, it never left my lips.

Years went on and I saw changes and I learned.
All things right and wrong, soon the tables had turned.
Twisting and turning, in time that table did fold.
It left me broken, so my secret was told.

Word by word I spoke of the painful truth.
Of how a man I had trusted had stolen my youth.
I lost people that I loved, eventually my family fell apart.
Most looking away in disbelief, another scar etched on my heart.

This man was adored, even loved and respected.
He was battling an illness yet fought longer than expected.
Each year he fought on, the more I had struggled to hide.
We were told only months but in years he fought five.
Retaining all of his dignity, it was too hard to bare.
He wasn’t deserving after stealing mine all those years.
Why should I care? Or allow him that right?
Did he stop to care? When I had nightmares each night?

He had taken so many dreams, I was forced to see.
From an unfortunate age, life is a harsh reality.
Behind closed doors after a truth was finally spoken
I appear to be grown yet I’m a girl still broken.
Broken by betrayal, emotional victim of pain.
I refused to allow ‘victim’, to be a part of my name.
Over time, I found strength, I stood my ground.
I didn’t prove my truth, eventually people came around.
With each year that passed I grew to be strong.
I stopped crying and forgave him because I did no wrong.
I have good days and bad days, the nights can be dark.
But I’m here, I survived, I’m a warrior at heart.

A warrior knows who to trust, knows who really cares.
That’s the reason for sharing my scars and my fears.
Since I heard, I felt the words that you speak.
Now with my scars, you have my heart to keep.

My heart in your hands and the scars you will see.
Do you still want to fall for a woman like me?
Do you still want to be there in my best days and my worst.
Now I’ve bared my soul to show my deepest scar first?….  

by Yvette Dove “I refuse to allow ‘victim’ to be a part of my name”

About the Creator

Yvette Dove

33yrs old, single mother to 5.
I may not be perfect but at least I’m not in denial.

My Personal Life Of Rhyme

Share on:
0 0 votes
Article Rating
Notify of

Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x