Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Sarah Johnson May 2015
I want to float home,
high heels in hand,
arm in arm with you,
you
and your hippy music I love,
you
and your quiet ways,
my lips on your cheek

(and my number there, above your heart,
scrawled in sharpie)

and us surrounded by bodies,
the pull of the music
deafening in that crowded basement

obscure lagers and a young ego,
temporary tattoos courtesy
of another drunken night

earlier--
in the parking lot,
voices called my name from the dark,
the sound rising over our heads and shoulders,
the feel of it in the hollow of my chest

belonging

I see and hear and feel
so much
Where does it all go?
Sarah Johnson Apr 2015
how long does it take for the loss to set in?
- 5 hours, or until the church ladies arrive, laden with casseroles and condolences
where does the time go?
- fast forward four years, Young Heart,
remember summer nights by the river
how do you live now?
- long nights and loud music, Sunday brunch and sunny afternoons.

Good friends, cheap beer, always looking up.
blah, poetry class assignment
Sarah Johnson Apr 2015
Max is in the corner, coughing up blood.
Mushrooms and pipe dreams intermingle above our heads.
Birthday cards,
gin and tonics,
well-wishes scattered throughout the room.

His (pleading) eyes never left my face.

There’s a couple of lovers left,
before the sad sets in.
I love the straight of your nose and the set of your mouth.

Smoky lights embrace the night.
Guys are ***** w/ red solo cups.
(sorry, he’s too drunk)
Keep going until the
goldschlagger...

here’s to Nat,
tall like a tree and just as wise,
quiet kind.
(quite the friend)

After we left, you found me in the kitchen.
Words don’t matter so much as
that earnest apology and the warmth
of your arms around me.
Sarah Johnson Apr 2015
pointing and laughing,
I'm being told how to live my life
he was running from her
catching the light
chasing it across town
I swallow ***** like water
bruises and felons
we have our feline friends
and I can smell hope
in this apartment
high fives + best friends
drunk bus and acoustic guitar
where are we when you
start to leave us?
lost backpacks give
way to found numbers
I took your favorite piece
of literature and he
laid claim to my thigh
his fingers bruised and
his eyes burned into mine

silver-haired Prince, where
did you go?
You grow with the stars
and yes, I am interested.

let's call her Mindi
wow, drunk.
Sarah Johnson Apr 2015
It is not enough to simply remember.
Each night I can travel back--
back to the smell of the sea
and the feel of the sand.
Back to home,
back to my mother.
More often, though,
I find myself back in
your bed, much like any
other night
Sarah Johnson Apr 2015
cold sores and energy drinks
streets awash in sepia tones
voices tripped along the edge of
darkness
I led the group of us,
already drunk, joyful, stumbling--
across the half-lit parking lot

then, clear and strong, breaking
through the noise of the crowd

(the sound of my name and the feel of my small victory, here I am, victorious,
belonging)
dollhouse, brad, gooood, march 27, that night that our hearts left us
Sarah Johnson Apr 2015
April 14th
it would be so simple,
to step back into that dream

April 16th,
one class,
                monster +

April 17th (halfway) squirrel + Nat's BDAY @Avery? Gin + Tonic
Max is in the corner, coughing
up blood
world town above our heads
mushrooms and pipe dreams
sad poetry with your
guns up
birthday cards,
gin + tonic
your eyes never left
my face
couple of lovers left
__ before the sad sets in
I love the straight of
your nose + the set of your mouth
smoky lights outline
the night
guys are ***** w/ red
solo cups
sorry, he's too drunk
keep going till the
goldschlagger

locked out of our house
on our way to the angel's
kitchen

here's to Nat
tall like a tree
and just as wise,
quiet kind (and quite the friend)

Kady is almost here
Max left as I took my seat
stream of consciousness, drunken stream of consciousness
Next page