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The Silence Between Moonbeams

The Silence Between Moonbeams

By Sarah Doughty

Copyright 2016 Sarah Doughty

Shakespir Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved


Original Poem Attributions:

Playground – Medium: Crossing Genres

We Were Infinity – Medium: Crossing Genres; Eyes + Words titled as We Were

Cover design: Sarah Doughty. Cover image copyright Sheswideawake.

Interior image (full moon) copyright Jeff Doughty.

Shakespir Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this ebook, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.



Table Of Contents





Poems I


Poems II

Thank You Message

About The Author

Discover Other Titles

Connect With The Author




For my amazing supporters and giveaway winners, Addison of @eloquenceofwords; Jacqueline Bird; Cherry of @got2haveit; for Drishti, from Rohit; Jim of @unbuttoned_denims; Iqra of @thxtm_girl; Mah of @emotionally.inconstant; Sam Azura Mirza of @s.a.m.irza; and Uzair Mohammed of @uzair_cr_1071 — thank you.


Full Moon



For someone like me, the sheer existence of the moon is something to appreciate. In fact, many behold the moon with extreme significance because they see her as a spiritual essence and a way to connect with the universe.

The moon is one of those infinite beauties, glowing in its pale blue light, that I’ll never grow tired of seeing. She’s seen it all — my life. The bad, the good. And she’s my constant. Of all the things that have and will come and go, and despite my fear of the night, she remains. On the plus side, her light doesn’t hurt my eyes when I look up at her.

Even though I’m in constant pain and anguish, I will always be one of those people that look upon her face with a smile in my heart.

Raymond Carver wrote something in an anthology called What We Talk About When We Talk About Love that I would like to share with you:

“I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moved, not even when the room went dark.”

There was something about that line, that last line of a story that stuck with me. Every reader has felt it.

It was that breath you take right after finishing the last line, or when you’ve seen the screen go black just before the credits roll. It’s that moment when you know you’ve reached the end of something meaningful, when a sense of peace washes over you.

I haven’t known peace like that in a very long time.

Though this chapbook probably won’t have that effect on you, I hope it does. Someone should be able to feel it.

The Girl That Lost Everything


Trigger Warning

For those of you with PTSD stemming from abuse, proceed reading this introduction with caution.



When I was young, my innocence was stolen. Not once, not twice, but every night. Every night we were under the same roof until I reached my teens.

Though luckily, after I was about eight, he left my mother and I was only subjected to the physical parts of his abuse when I saw him on weekends.

He was my first kiss, my first glimpse at a man’s desire. He was my first everything while I was only a toddler. I still hold all that tension from the way he would force himself into my mouth and my body.

I have nightmares when I dream, and I relive each moment with him, like they just happened. I remember the torture. I remember all the things he said to me.

Everything he said in those long nights beneath the moonlight were meant to cut me down. He made me believe in everything he said. And I believed every word of it.

I am nothing. I’ll never be anything. Never have talent. Never be loved. I would forever be his.

His threats were carefully constructed so I would never speak of them to anyone. Not just for fear of what he’d do to me, but what he would do to the people I loved.

Every night, he took his time, first with his fists, and then his lust. After a while, I tried to be what he wanted, as if wanting him might spare me some pain.

It’s hard to quantify the amount of guilt I have over my actions. But I lacked any other way to protect myself. It was my only option.

Sometimes it worked and the pain was less, but mostly, it failed. And every night I endured, even though it was often that I hoped he wouldn’t let me live.

But I survived. And I have no choice but to live with what happened.

He’s been dead over ten years, and I still can’t push him out of my mind. I don’t just suffer from debilitating migraines, constant headaches, depression, and anxiety so bad I can’t sleep or be out of my house at night, I have what is called Complex PTSD.

This is the result of being raised to fear someone who should have been my protector. This is the result of all that trauma. Over a decade of the worst of the imaginable, and nearly another filled with whatever he could take from me before his death.

Every day, I try to overcome it. I push back and do things I was assured I could never accomplish.

I have a husband and son that love me more than words can express.

And I have this.



I don’t just love to write. I need to. Every day, I get out of bed, even though I want nothing more than to stare at the ceiling. I want to prove him wrong.

So that’s what I do. That’s what I will always do. Even though chances are I’ll never be a normal person — functional, unafraid, and capable — at least I can say I’ve proved him wrong.

With every word I write, I take his power away.

He didn’t ruin me completely. Slowly, I’m taking back what he stole from me. I can’t take my childhood back. I can’t think back without finding something tainted by him. But I keep going. And for that, he didn’t win.

That’s why I’ll never stop.

Stardust I


The twinkling stars combined with the moon’s soft blue glow is nothing short of beautiful. Look up at the skies on those clear, crisp autumn nights. Smell the wood smoke in the air and watch leaves turn fiery. You’ll feel it too. If you look closely enough, you can see the freckles of your own stardust reflected back at you.





swirl within my eyes.

Why can’t you

see them?

See me?

I See


When I look into your eyes,

I don’t just see constellations

and stardust. I see time —

the past, present, and future

written within them.

I see poetry.



Your tongue moved

in time with your body,

increasing the tempo

of my pulsating heart.

I didn’t just see stars

behind my eyes.

They went supernova.

Look Up


Look up and take a look into the clear night sky. Can you see the twinkling stars billions of miles away? Feel that bitter chill on the breeze, winter coming in your bones? Can you feel me there? Look up. I’m right next to you, gazing at the same starlight, feeling the same chill. The same pull of time. I’m right there, and yet you don’t know. Because I am those things. I am there. In space, the air, I’m in your bones. Look up. I’m there, even though you don’t know it. You’re not alone. Never alone. Look up. Can you see me? I’m everywhere. You just need to see me. And know you’ll be alright. Look up.

Drift Away


Blanket me in stardust

and let me drift away

with nothing to hold me back.

Not even gravity.



That black rose

opening at midnight,


by the moon,

is me.

Shooting Stars


We were fated

like shooting stars

with a gravitational pull

always meant to collide.

Night Drive


My dreams took me on a night drive, with the moon’s glow shining from above and thousands of fireflies surrounding me. I thought they were starbursts passing through my outstretched fingers. When I awoke, it was with a smile.



It’s so much harder trying to fit in. To make people think you’re okay, when you’re anything but. Yet, the hurt grips us. The pain of love lost, trust broken, and time wasted, just trying to live. We’re just existing in this galaxy, within an infinite universe. If we were gone, who would notice?


Would anyone care?



Stars twinkling, dancing together like fireflies, illuminate the night in a hazy pink light from a far off place. Vivid and real, touchable and infinite. Nights of beauty, lost in time and space.

What Can I Do?


What can I do when the darkness of oblivion surrounds me, when not even the stars or the moon can penetrate its inky surface that coats me like oil? When I am trapped, all I have left is my mind and the demons that linger, whispering to me. I rage against that darkness, and fight with everything I am. My fingers begin bleeding with ink. Then I begin to see those infinite twinkling stars, and watch as those soothing moonbeams wash it all away. That is the power of the universe, the power of words and imagination. That, my friends, is when I find the light.



Remember all those nights you looked at the moon and asked if your world would be alright? Even though you heard silence, she answered with her warm smile.

Her Peace


There’s something about gazing into the infinite expanse of the sea. But not just anytime. There’s a magic in the dark of night with gentle waves illuminated by a full moon. It’s a feeling of going home, when the eyes focus on that little strip of light, fading off into the distance. That’s the power of the pale blue glow of the moon shining on the waves. Whenever you feel lost, just look at her beautiful face in the sky and what she illuminates beneath her. If you’re lucky enough to look out into the ocean at the same time, you’ll know what peace feels like.



I fell into the crescent

of your arms,

you bathed me in stars,

and we slept atop

nebulae in our

luminescent dreams.



We were a zodiac

written in the stars

and I felt it through

every cell in my body.

It was like we were

made for each other.

Dance Some More


When we’re together,

nothing else matters

but the music in our hearts

and the laughter in our souls.

Let’s paint the stars

with our fingertips,

build our homes of poetry,

and then dance some more.



The universe is my canvas

and I paint the stars

with the shattered remains

of my broken soul.

Stardust II


Twinkling stardust

reflected from the glassy

surface of your eyes

and shimmered up at the

pale blue moon.

It Is Written


The past isn’t just

written in the stars,

it’s written in our souls.



He collected hearts

like galaxies gathered lost

planets, moons, and stars.

Burning Twilight


Life fades like the setting sun, burning for a fleeting moment before bleeding away into night. Living forever in twilight with a full moon always at your back, sounds like heaven to me. Run free, feel the wind upon your face, and never forget to howl at the moon.

In Your Eyes


I saw stars

in your eyes

every time

and I knew

I never wanted

to look away.



Paint my dreams with starshine

and we’ll dance with constellations

until the sun’s luminance awakens us.

Bared And Shrouded


Strip me down,

bleach my bones,

and let the moon

be my shroud.





I always hoped the moon would save me. As I cowered under my windows, sheathed in moonbeams, waiting alone in silence, I prayed, just once, she would. But she never did. Nothing ever did. That’s the thing about living a childhood like mine. You’ll pray to anything and everything. Because you’re too small to do anything but cower and try not to cry. To stay silent. I spent countless nights with her light shining over me as I awaited my fate, but somehow, she always comforted me. She was there. Enduring my pain right along with me. Giving me hope. Showing me I wasn’t alone. For that, I will always love the moon and the moonbeams she shines.



As my tears reflect the stars,

I wonder if you can see

the pain that lingers

within my eyes.



When I look

at the stars shining

in the sky,

I feel our distance

as nothing more

than a caress

or gentle kiss away,

instead of a few

thousand miles

worth of walls.

Graced By The Moon


The sky was at its

most beautiful when

the moon graced it.

The soft glow,

illuminated at the edges

and casting shadows

better than any artist

ever could, was my muse.



I hid amongst

the moon and stars,

hoping the dark

would protect me.

Graveled Road


Graveled roads shimmer

against the moonlight

like a million tiny diamonds,

guiding me where I belong.

Shining Star


I don’t think you know

how much it means to me

to have your eyes travel

across these pages.

That makes you

my shining star.

Right here on Earth.

Painting Dreams


My quill is filled

not with ink, but

with shooting stars,

and I’ll paint your

dreams with




Children of the moon

are the lovers of the dark,

the admirers of the moon.

They are the disciples of shadow.

Beautiful Dreams


When I dream,

you’re still here,

bathed in moonlight.

My biggest fear is

waking up to see you

fade with the dawn.

Drunk On Stars


I was drunk on stars,

drinking the cosmos

of your eyes, like I

was dying in a desert

of galaxies.



Take all your prayers. All your wishes upon stars and blown out candles. All those empty nights you looked at the moon and told yourself that your world would be alright. That you would overcome. Let it all go and listen to the midnight whispers in the halls of your heart. You’ll find the answers were there all along.

The Fault In Your Eyes


I couldn’t

blame chance,

or the stars

in the night sky.

It was the fault

in your eyes,

and the words

you spoke

that sealed

my fate.



I hold eternity in my hands

when your silken

phosphorescent skin

illuminates the night,

pulsating with energy

meant for me.



The road and the moon,

distant hills and clouds

together as one.

Infinite Oblivion


When my moonlit dreams

were filled with you,

I felt complete, infinite,

and I never wanted to wake up.

Craters Of Madness


The craters of madness pounded by a millennium of blows, fulfilled the prophecy of the moon spending her life in solitude, forever separated from her beloved.

Pale Blue


Under the pale blue moonlight,

you looked into my soul.

For once, I didn’t mind.

Because I wanted you

to see all of me, and hoped

like hell you wouldn’t mind

what you saw.



My body rots in the warm sun. It pierces my skull like a thousand tiny blades cutting with perfect precision to make each jab hurt worse than the last. This, my brightened surroundings, are rays beating down onto my scorched flesh, laughing at my inability to coexist in its presence. It taunts me, reminding me that I don’t belong. But I know my place. My soul lives among the shadows, dances with the moon, and twinkles with the stars in the night sky. This, where my demons live and thrive, is my prison. This, my world of darkness, is my salvation. This, where anything is possible, is my redemption. This is my playground.

Man On The Moon


His eyes were icy blue,

and it reminded me of

the man on the moon,

always keeping his

protective gaze on me.

We Were Infinity


When I close my eyes, I see your beautiful face, lit from within. I see the brilliance of your eyes, glinting against the dying light of the day. Memories flash before my eyes. All those moments we ever shared play like movies. I remember you. I remember us. And what we once stood for. I hold on to those moments. That’s all I have left of us. Sometimes, when no one is looking, a smile will creep into my lips. Because we were real. We were right. And we were epic.

Moondust and Whispers


The moon’s dust

felt like warm snow

embracing me

as she whispered,

“It’ll be alright.”

My Universe


If you remember nothing else,

know that you were my universe.

Listen as my heart forever

beats as one with yours in the

silence between moonbeams.



Thank You


Writing has always called to me in a way nothing else ever has or ever will. Fiction might be where my heart truly lies, however poetry and prose has proved to be a valuable tool in my writing process. Poetry and prose help me refine my words for maximum impact, compacting as much emotion as possible into as few words as possible. Without these, I believe my writing as a whole would not be where it is today. For those of you that enjoy these shorter pieces over my fiction, this is for you. No matter how long or short, my writing is my escape, just as reading is for many of you. I hope you all agree that deciding to release this chapbook was the right decision. But most of all, I hope it touched you in some way. You have my sincerest and most humbled gratitude for you continued support.



Sarah Doughty

About The Author


Sarah Doughty writes with thematic undercurrents involving love, life, hope, and often, PTSD. Her writing and books are a way for her to escape her mind and enter another, to experience something amazing and healing at the same time. She’s shared her words freely online for anyone who wants to read them, so that maybe they can give someone else hope, or the same, temporary escape as they did for her.


Her books are successful and have landed her on Shakespir’ Most Downloaded Author list. She lives in Indiana with her husband and young son. Visit her website at www.sarahdoughty.com.

Discover Other Titles By Sarah Doughty


Earthen Witch Novels

Just Breathe



Earthen Witch World Novels



Earthen Witch World Shorts

Dream Spell


Connect With Me


Website: http://www.sarahdoughty.com

Instagram: https://instagram.com/thesarahdoughty/

Shakespir: https://www.Shakespir.com/profile/view/thesarahdoughty

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/TheSarahDoughty

Twitter: http://twitter.com/thesarahdoughty



Without the continued support of friends and fans from both social media and my website, this chapbook wouldn’t be possible. My words have reached more people than I ever thought possible, and I’m forever grateful for all the encouragement throughout my journey of writing and healing. To my biggest fans, beta readers, and friends, for their unwavering guidance and support: Márcia “Mah” Lima of emotionally.inconstant, and May Timani. To Sonny Spencer, for your continued support since the beginning, your assistance with my novels, and your generosity with your amazing photography. To my good friend Sheswideawake for her continued support and guidance in all things Photoshop, and for her selfless donation of the perfect art for the cover of this chapbook. To my husband for taking care of me and our son without complaint, and being more than I ever thought I deserved, I love you. To my mother for being Mom and an amazing grandmother. To my sister-in-law for swooping in and saving the day when I needed help with childcare. Finally, but certainly not least, YOU, my readers. Thank you for loving every second of this journey with me.


The Silence Between Moonbeams

The Silence Between Moonbeams is about life — not always romantic, and not always easy, but often beautiful. Everything is a product of the universe, the one thing about life we all share. It binds us together not only on a cellular level, but it’s also quintessential to the human condition. Thoughts, feelings, triumphs, love, loss, and much more are covered throughout these pages. Discover what it feels like to live.

  • ISBN: 9781370041664
  • Author: Sarah Doughty
  • Published: 2016-07-28 08:20:14
  • Words: 3394
The Silence Between Moonbeams The Silence Between Moonbeams