Sarah Spang Jan 8
You're seated somewhere in
The realm of the unnamed
I've tried in jest to plunder you
With phrase; though you're unframed.


You are not a man I'll claim
With meter, phrase and line
The metaphors I'd set aside
You've not allowed to bind


In other ways I'll keep you
When the pen and page will not
My finger tips will bid you stay
When body's all I've brought.
Sarah Spang Jan 8
My sight, sick
Slick- a brush
Spreads your face
Layer by layer before me.

Unpeeled, my eyes
Sell truths my mind
Cherry picks, kicks around
Until they crumple,
Fester, shrivel
Fade.

For one brief
Infinite moment
I'm there beneath
That single layer,
Flush against
Soil, earth,
Summer and rain-
And the precise shade of olive
I've only ever seen
In the double sphere
Of each iris.
Sarah Spang Jan 8
Of all things I remember
I'll always recall the sunflowers;
Benevolent guardians that kept
Whimsical treasures from the wandering eye.

There was a slick magic they harbored
Bottled in their rich, sun darkened faces;
The surrendered seeds
We gathered against the wishes of the jays.

I grasped them, granted access to the castle on the creek
Lighthouse in the wood that beckoned back after
The last crawfish had wriggled free
The final apple was plucked,
And the birds had sought refuge.
My written, unfinished effigy to the only father I knew.
I apologize for another hiatus, the well has run dry once more
Still digging around for more.

Thank you, all.
Sarah Spang Nov 2017
A touch of orange,
A kiss of blue
Through the mist and through to you.

Wade the waters
Wade the crowd
Wade the voices drowning out.

All their jackets,
Anxious eyes
Blurred beneath the Bleacher lights

Tipping Lips sought
Clarity
Alleged static - him to me


And I
If only I knew
That at the end
Blooms something new
And all
The words that I've said
Have scattered with the Mist instead


Icy water calendars
Swimming wave-
To-grid with her.

Stride the lines
And numbered squares
Touch the autumn in her hair.

The mists have come
The waters rise
The fog has blurred
And cleared her eyes

Here for now
Soon- gone again
Wrap her up and then stay again



And I
If only I knew
That at the end
Blooms something new
And all
The words that I've said
Have scattered with the Mist instead


A touch of orange,
A kiss of blue.
This is the first song I've written that I actually can hear music to when I read it. If anyone out there is musically inclined or had lyrical suggestions, I'd be interested in getting into something new.

Dedicated to Red.
Sarah Spang Nov 2017
CJ,

Another year past, with so much more unsaid.
We both had our fatal flaws:
I was afraid to fall too fast;
Wasn't ready yet-
And you wanted to dive into the unknown
Regardless of what happened.
I was too scared,
Too scared to have something so consuming and frightening.
I remember how kissing you was the most wonderful and horrifying thing I'd ever done. I remember feeling the young, frail thing in my heart being changed permanently.
And it was just too soon for that.
I'm sorry I wasn't brave.
I'm sorry I hurt you by running, by pushing you away.
I'm sorry that our anger masked different kinds of hurt. There are words I said I wish I could recall, even if they were said in jest.

It's too late now,
Too late in the truest of ways
And I wonder all the time
If those two paths would have bissected again.
It would have been alright if they hadn't. Just the fact that you were still walking yours was enough for me at the time.
But now, there's an empty walk in the woods somewhere-
A place I stand, a crossways I look down, knowing the traveller I seek will never join me.
But if only.
If only, if only.

You would have been 26 this Friday.
When did we... I... get so old?
I wonder who you would have been with four more years under your belt? I wonder, but I know that you would have been just as miraculous to me now as you were then.
I'm shouting to the void, these words, knowing your eyes will never stroke each line I've typed. Penning a letter to ash- to masses of people who will read this and pluck a fragment of my grief like a shard of glass from the sand.

Embellishments aside, flowery language discarded: Happy early birthday, my love. With all of my heart and soul, know that I loved you then, and I'll love you past each year that your body is no more.

Always.

-Sarah
Sarah Spang Nov 2017
Move a little closer
Give me what you've
Planned to take.
We're both numb here
Blue lipped
And wanting around the
Flame
Taking what burns we can.

I know we need this
The way I need to
Lift away and dig around
In search of something
Redeemable
Though this act will only
Add another layer
He won't reach.
I shiver
Wasting away with the taste
Of fine whiskey
As a whisper on my tongue
Of a moment where we felt
Halfway human again.
Sarah Spang Oct 2017
Skim to search the airwaves seeking
To abandon you
I fill this empty silence with a
Useless song or two
In silence creeping, weeping, you fill
Up my nodding head.
And all the words you've spoken hence
Flood forth to fill my head.
The voices on the radio say
All I should have said-
I skip those haunting broken tunes
And search for more instead.
Though truthfully excuses fail to
Negate what is true:
I fill this car with music to
Escape my thoughts of you.
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