You come running back because you expect her to be there.
You don't have the slightest clue of how much it hurts her.
But there you are, digging deeper for that love that you don't deserve.
Because she thinks it is real, but little does she know that it is all a game.
You don't want her because you love her or because you care for her.
You don't want her because you admire her or because it was the little things that she said and did.
You don't want her because you think she is beautiful or because she was worth remembering.
You want her because you can have her.
You want her because you know she will take you back.
You want her just because you know that you can always have her.
And she is so clueless to see this all.
Because she wants you, for all of those unexplainable reasons.
Because she sees the good that no one else can.
She sees the strong-willed heart that has been hurt so many times by life's untimely struggles.
She sees what no one else can see.
Her heart is an open, abandoned, and run down house that the poor take refuge in.
They don't take refuge because they choose to.
They take refuge because it is the only thing that can help them survive.
Because it is a roof over their head, protecting them from natures death.
They take refuge because they need to survive.
You take refuge because you need to survive.
She takes refuge because she helps you survive.
This poem is copyrighted to Sarah Johnson and it also published in A Peek of Sunshine, A Peek of Clouds.
I'm not too sure if I can compare your existence
to the dandelion that blossomed in the crack
of the old paved parking lot or the tone of
your voice to Beethoven's Piano Concerto No.5.
And I'm not too sure if I can compare your hair
to the coat of a Fennec Fox or the mane of a White Lion.
Comparing your eyes to the color of my walls
puts a shame to the confinement of my room.
The brightest shades of blue in Turkish Tiles
could not measure up to the color of your eyes.
The tallest of towers even seem small compared
to the height of your shoulders and the comfort of your touch.
Nothing measures up or down to the actuality of the situation.
A sense of disgrace embraces inanimate objects,
as if they could feel an emotion at all.
Even the most exotic of animals do not seem rare enough.
So I'm not sure if I can compare you to anything.
I most certainly do not care that you went for a jog at 4 am or that you overslept your alarm clock for work.
I do not care that you drove to Harvey's because you wanted some food or you washed all the dishes and still had no fork.
It is not necessarily necessary that you post every detail of your life online.
Mystery has been lost and without every detail I'm sure we would be just fine.
So nobody cares that you are taking a crap after you ate that greasy breakfast burrito and they do not need a play by play of the occurrences of your entire day.
Before you bring your fingers to the board ask yourself is this necessarily necessary?
Most likely, the answer is no.
From there to hereFrom here to there.Take me somewhere but not too nearTake me somewhere where I wont care.Take me to a place where I wont regret.Take me to a place that I'll never forget.Take me with you, always by your side.Take me somewhere, where I'll never have to hide.
This poem is written and copyrighted by Sarah Johnson.
You once lay with me under a blanket of sun
and held me in your hands. The texture of my
fine debris slipping through the crevices of
your fingers and toes.
You built me a kingdom by the seashore:
castles with towers for guards to keep watch
and dried up moats surrounding the landscape
of a desert.
Sea armies of adolescents would attempt to
conquer my walls but crustaceans armed with
a pair of Archimede’s claws would defend my
kingdom from such intruders.
But as the suns bulb became dim and burnt
out, the great big blue took over covering me
inch by great inch. My towers began to crumble
down, depleting all of my army and all of my castles.
You left me here for the ocean to take, but a little
piece of me snuck its way into your bag, towels,
hair, and shoes. And just like the ocean, you will
eventually wash me away as well.
Spines so straight, I've never seen before, usually broken and weathered; Never so tethered.
Spines of wood in all one direction.
The text is there, but nothing is clear.
Complete and total silence, except for the tip and tap of the keys that do not exist on pianos.
The keys that did not play my favorite song like my grandmother did in her earlier years.
The familiarity of this place should not be here and neither should I.
Concentration is insufficient in my mind, for the thoughts inside are shouting, gasping for air.
The surrounding souls cannot hear a word.
I shouldn't be here, not even in my mind.
For if the lady in the attic, who wears mirrors on her face, were to hear a word, she would tell me that I do not belong.
No, not in this place.
No, not at all.
My eyes began to hide as we retired conversation.
My eyes began to hide as the night grew tired
And we’d lie next to eachother like two lines on the road
And I didn’t want to open my eyes for fear that you had snuck from the covers
And then suddenly you were singing like the call of a nightingale.
My eyes and mind were deluded into believing the occurance of the following events.
We sat together like two birds on a branch.
My breathing was heavy like the tree being supported by the ground.
We sat together as the wind carried loose limbs and leaves to the next town.
The storm was coming but I wanted to stay a little longer.
The storm was coming we must set flight!
But I did not want to separate for fear you’d be gone forever.
But I did not want to be blown and beaten for the Maine ***** grabs.
The storm was coming, so I left my ambitions to be carried with the limbs and leaves
And I left my nightingale alone in the night, to fight with the Nimbus as the storm carried on.
My eyes began to uncover from blankets, I felt your existence inches away.
My eyes were mislead and I rolled right on over and went back to bed.
I have not felt regret in a long time.
It's a feeling of remorse and loss.
Like I have committed some kind of crime.
And I am the defendant.
And I am the plaintiff.
For the witness was I, and I can say nothing.
Because either way, I am in the wrong.
Because it is just me in this case.
So please don't remind me of my rights.
Don't tell me anything, for that matter.
Because everything I say is held against me.
I heard it all before, words served on a platter.
Now it is time to leave it all behind, no view over the shoulder.
The regrets and remorse will be left at the burial site.
Never to visit, only to bury; the hatchet and the lies,
That I once have spoken before. For the closet it clean
and the graves are hidden, wiping the slate from all that is forbidden.
Written by Sarah Johnson.
It's really strange and interesting to look back at where we used to be and then compare it to where we are now. Most of the times I constantly ask myself and tell myself, "Really!? What was I thinking?" Half of the time I wonder why I still remember the stuff that I put up for so long and the other half I spend wondering when I became smart enough to forget about you.
I also noticed that I tend to forget the things that used to mean a lot to me. Obviously it is because you don't mean jack squat to me anymore, but it is strange to know that something that used to be so familiar is not anymore. People that I used to know and be so close to are so distant that I can't even remember their names or faces. Although I do remember the best more than the worst, I still remember the worst as detailed as ever. However, I finally realized that I can not change you and once I say goodbye to you there is no going back. It is time to let things go so I can finally look at you and compare you to the present and thank God for what I have now and what we don't have anymore. I've replaced the bad memories with better and more familiar ones. I've replaced the old with something new. I've replaced you with not only one but two; the present and future. I wish you the best of luck in other peoples lives and I promise I won't bring up the bad things; only the good.
Sincerely, Your dearest friend.
As the night grew weak and tired I sat alone in my room. The static was turned off keeping everything quiet. Still, I sat alone in my close quarters of familiarity and wondered what it was like to be you inside. Inside my mind, inside my soul, inside my heart I never used before. The hurt and pain that I never knew existed would take me and break me into a million pieces. The anger inside that was never resolved would grow colder and colder until it was frozen over. I sat and wondered what it was like to be you inside, inside my mind, inside my soul, inside my heart that I never used before.
With every day I am learning.Even with my world turning.Like my stomach turning overevery time I hear my lover.Or when I hear his nameI will never feel the same.But I must come to realizethat even I can not idealize.Because the truth of the matteris that my hearts on a platter,For the taking of my loverBut he will never comeso I must succumb.
This poem is copyrighted to Sarah Johnson in A Peek of Sunshine, A Peek of Clouds.
We used to dance to the sounds of our youth
but I haven't heard that song in a while and
it seems that I have forgotten all the moves.
We used to roll our car windows down until they
no longer existed and we would sing loud enough for
the wind to hear, as if the wind could even hear at all.
We used to walk the red clay trail leading to the
convenient store. We'd push each other round in
tiny metal carts and play our childish games to the
sound of elevator music.
But now the store is no longer open for business,
and those tiny metal carts have been placed
somewhere else. The car windows are resting
in a motor infested park and the wind has blown
our echoes away.
A time not too long ago but long enough to allow things to change.
The memories still exist and the songs still published but that moment in time will never come back.
It seems so strange that you used to know me like all the words
to your favorite Bob Dylan song because now you have a new song for a new friend.
And now I stand years away from you with those dusty songs that you haven't listened to in years thinking about the things we used to do.
It's hard to move on when someone keeps reminding you of your past.
Constantly chewing away at the back of my ear.
And all that I want to do is get rid of the memories fast.
But now I am reminded of the past, too Clear.
And it tears me up inside, telling myself, "That was you."
Feeling sick to my stomach from the mistakes made.
But such a stronger person that I have developed into.
This new person I've become, my mind you won't invade.
For I was the one who had to live through it all
And I was the one who had to survive the great fall.
So don't remind me of my past and tell me I was wrong.
Because those mistakes I made and that person is long gone.
Gone for a while, never saying goodbye.
Gone for a while, erasing you from my mind.
Wondering if you were looking into the sky,
on those nights when I realized you let me behind.
Gone for a while, I am fine now that your gone.
Gone for a while, the curtains have been drawn.
Appearing when you want, and vanishing when you please.
Don't you realize that you left me weak at my knees?
Thinking you can come ang go whenever
But you don't realize that I am far too clever.
Written by Sarah Johnson
Days and days without a word. Days and days nothing heard.
I'd **** for just a hello, but your just not that fellow who will come running to my door with your knees on the floor.
You're not that fellow who would make that bellow.
I can't make you be the one who makes me come undone.
I can't make you be the one who stays during the midnight sun.
Your just not that fellow. Your just not the one.
You smiled and I could see the lies seeping out through your teeth.
You didn't think that I would notice, but I can see whats beneath.
And now, since I can see as clear as day and you don't know.
I will continue to play the game and I will win in the end.
Because I am the only one that knows that there are two players.
And not one.
There is no competition because I have already won.
— The End —