Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Sep 2020 · 113
growth
Sarah Quinn Sep 2020
is deciding
that your sadness
will no longer
speak for you.
May 2019 · 269
Missing Memories
Sarah Quinn May 2019
is eating Ritz crackers
at 2 am
while flipping through your
Pokemon card collection.
May 2019 · 219
Brown Eyes
Sarah Quinn May 2019
I used to wish mine were
green - like the forests -
or blue - like the oceans -
or grey - like my grandfather's.

It wasn't until
you told me
there was gold
- like the earth -
in my irises,
that I started
to believe.

(Maybe, just maybe,
there's beauty in me after all.)
May 2019 · 983
Epiphany
Sarah Quinn May 2019
I will grow
with
or without
you.
Apr 2019 · 240
The Death of "Someday"
Apr 2019 · 244
Seatbelt
Sarah Quinn Apr 2019
I knew I wanted to live
when I started wearing
my seatbelt again.
Mar 2019 · 266
Big Ain't Always Better
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
I'm five feet of
stubborn kindness
and crippling self-doubt
and barely-controlled havoc.

That's more than enough to knock down
your six feet
of self-proclaimed
douchery.
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
ocean (n.): the side of the world the witch-doctor calls home.

devotion (n.): the vow she dedicated one night while alone.

potion (n.): her well-known recipe, for hearts and bones to mend.

emotion (n.): her secret source of weakness, in the end.
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
There is an ache.
Something once there,
now, gone.

No matter how put-together
my reality becomes,
something feels out of place.
Missing.

I think it's that fact that - in this life at least -
I won't get to meet
you.
Mar 2019 · 283
Hope
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
is a four-letter word
made of sunshine and *******
used to teach kids
against taking
their own
lives.

I say
it's a concept.
Like time
or falling in love
and it traps your mind
into thinking you still have
some fight left.

(The truth is, I'm not hopeful,
I'm just stubborn.)
Mar 2019 · 287
read 3:14 am
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
Do you believe in soulmates?

I didn't
until
I
met
you.

(I wish I still didn't. I'm sorry. Truly)
Mar 2019 · 180
Barricade
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
There once was a wall in her heart
that she allowed him to take apart.
It took him forever
and he gave up whenever
he realized this wasn't so smart.
Mar 2019 · 460
Cat.
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
Chaotic feline is
Adamant that owner
Takes steps to come home.
Mar 2019 · 256
Wednesdays Are the Worst
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
How? You ask me so.
Well, it does lie between the days
so you have the rest
of the week to go.

Breakups happen on this dreaded day,
when your partner decides you're through.
When you're too hungover to care too much,
for last night you tried something new.

You can lose your job on a Wednesday,
after effort and commute and time.
You can be slapped together with a parking ticket
and forced to pay a fine.

You might lay in bed on this day,
wondering what's left to come.
You might want to hide in your covers
because you know you did something dumb.

I'll be real: I hate Wednesdays.
But why? You ask? I could've sworn...
Ah! Yes. I remember now.
T'was a Wednesday when
I was born.
Mar 2019 · 268
Stains
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
Words are permanent.

I was once told
that I'm an
"embarrassment"
and now,
that's all I can think
when I get excited
in public.

(I was also once told
that I'm a
"talented writer"
and now,
here I am
writing dumb poems
for my soul.)
Mar 2019 · 154
Advice for Little Sarah:
Mar 2019 · 549
N u m b
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
feels like static
at the end of a long day.
Or ice in your veins
when you want to run away.

It's everything,
overwhelming,
when you've got **** to do.

It's nothing
and only comes
when you're alone
and it's just you.
Mar 2019 · 149
Yo, Cupid!
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
Watch where you ******* aim, why don't'cha?
You can really hurt someone with that bow-and-arrow of yours!

Idiot.
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
bouquet (n.): a bundle of daisies to my office you had sent.

parfait (n.): your favorite dessert after a whole day with me you spent.

cabaret (n.): the lies you performed while I watched you, center-stage.

ricochet (v.): the hurt that backfired after I realized I'd been played.
just a disclaimer: this series of poems probably won't be based on my own experiences; they're just fun little stories.
Mar 2019 · 255
Starlight
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
I used to watch
the constellations
glued across my bedroom ceiling
and think "Someday,"
my name will be written
across the galaxies.

Now,
I see the stars light up outside
and think "****.
They cut my power again."
Mar 2019 · 235
A Vow To My Future Spouse
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
Our story is a love letter.
As long as I live,
I will write to you.
Mar 2019 · 118
Here We Go Again
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
The loneliness
is getting
louder.
Mar 2019 · 282
Insomnia
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
Maybe I can't sleep anymore
because my body
is afraid
of not waking up.
Mar 2019 · 163
Little Sanctuaries
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
I have few places
where I feel safe.

My car, passing through city stoplights
long after everyone has gone to bed.

A small shoe store with a big history,
when it's slow and the boss isn't there to kick me out.

My phone, when I have time
to **** around and pull up Internet memes.

And the thought
of a Someday
with you.
Mar 2019 · 301
Romantically Challenged
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
She falls in love wherever she goes
and loves people from their heads to their toes.
She'll love you to death, from beginning to end,
but the fact of it is, she can't stay
"just friends."
Mar 2019 · 436
A Love Letter
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
to myself
will begin with
silence.

Because I don't know
if I love myself
just yet.
Mar 2019 · 182
Sledgehammer
Sarah Quinn Mar 2019
It will take a chisel
to chip away at the detailed designs,
and a hammer
to crack through the carefully laid bricks,
and a wrecking ball
to bust open the stone-cold fence
of doubt and insecurity
I got wall-to-wall around my soul.

After that, you'll need a passcode
and a fingerprint.

You ain't getting in, *****.

— The End —