Sarah Wilson: Poems

Untitled

Sarah Wilson Jul 2012

Untitled

and i'm so sorry, but not really.
because i know this is just a waste
of otherwise blank and empty space
but my god, i just want to make you know
how hard it is to organize the feelings
in my head and the thoughts in my heart
when my greatest wish, to make the world stop,
is forgotten and replaced before it can even be;
because i can't keep thoughts in my head, ever
because if i do they fester, and if they fester,
here they come, up and out and i can't stop them
and then i can't take them back
and then you'll know
and i won't.

untitled because it's crap.

Sarah Wilson Jan 2010

untitled because it's crap.

put the bottle down
pour it out, throw it away

it’s so amusing how
in one breath
you chastise, criticize

the same behaviors
you so proudly enjoy
you’re oh so *******
you really think you’re tough?

looking down on everyone
from your throne of hypocrisy
as your bloodshot eyes blink, burning
i see you
you’re weaving, waning

if you’re looking for someone
to catch you when you fall
keep on looking, honey; sober up
and keep on looking
for whatever you need to find
cuz you sure as hell won’t find it

at the bottom of a bottle

we watched our kiss in a reflection.

Sarah Wilson Jun 2010

we watched our kiss in a reflection.

with every promise comes uncertainty,
and that's something i've never
been comfortable with so i'd
like to say, "i promise,"
and i'd like to say,

"forever," but you said, "fornever,"
and chased it down with
a shot of absolut plus
"and for always,"and then
i managed to convinced myself,

"i can handle tonight," and
you said, "i love you,"
so i said, "please, please...
take me down," and you
said, "how far?" so i...

showed you.

and everything was backwards and nothing made sense but we went for it anyway. saturday and sunday, june 5th and 6th. 2010.

We won't have to fight for long.

Sarah Wilson Apr 2011

We won't have to fight for long.

It makes sense that I'd find
the song that makes me burn for you
through the boy who keeps me sane.

It makes sense that, in time,
I'd actually mourn for you
instead just carving crimson lines.

It makes sense that I'd find
a tentative replacement for you,
albeit for a limited time.

It makes sense that I'd find
a way to never let you go
as long as I let go of my sanity.

The funny thing is,
your replacement?
Is ******, while you...
you were nicotine.

She's arsenic, while you...
you were simply rat poison.
You were Corona,
and she is Bacardi.

You were my lullaby,
but she was my morning's song.
Now Bacard is my lullaby,
and Jesse Lacey is my morning's song.

I know that this is what you want.
A funeral keeps both of us apart.
You know that you are not alone.
Need you like water in my lungs.

This is the end.

title, last stanza and the final line: "play crack the sky" by brand new. 1:30am, 4/15/2010.

what's the difference between love and lipstick?

Sarah Wilson Apr 2011

what's the difference between love and lipstick?

i’d give anything to trace your lips.
to paint them ruby red, tip to tip.
to be the smudge left on your glass,
to leave a mark on who you kiss last.

close me up, put me in your pocket.
i’ll go with you everywhere.
i’ll always be there, a twist away.
just don’t leave me behind.

don’t lose me on the subway,
don’t forget me in your room.
don’t go out without me,
don’t buy another shade.

i’m all you need, baby.
i think i’d look good on you.

not very much, apparently.
sunday, june 20, 2010. 6:10pm.

who do we think we are, anyway?

Sarah Wilson Apr 2011

who do we think we are, anyway?

We're something else.
We're the biggest, most beautiful disaster I can think of.

You're the one on the left.
Looking away from me,
looking away from us,
looking into the future.

I'm the one on the right,
looking down, arms clutched tight,
cuddling into and away from you,
because I know it's all I have.

And even if it's dysfunctional and just plain wrong,
I want it anyway.

i will never listen to thunder the same again.
5:10pm, tuesday. jun 22, 2010.

you always knew how to make me feel alive.

Sarah Wilson Apr 2011

you always knew how to make me feel alive.

I remember the look on your face
when you told me about your first time.
How it was messy and frantic and hot,
and not in the romantic way.

How all he said was, “My friend’s got something,” and left.
Left you lying there, frozen in your drying sweat,
wondering..."What's he got?

Left you bare, vulnerable against the world,
against the war raging inside your head.
“He was a Costco shopper, his friend,”
you will tell me between sips of gin.

I remember the first burn of whiskey,
as you poured it into your hand...
and let me lick it off.
Not in the romantic way.

All you said was, "It's supposed to burn.
That's how you know you're alive."
I wondered what it'd feel like to die.

You left me bare, vulnerable and bleeding,
lying there with whiskey on my breath,
while you waged a war on your body.
"This is how I know I'm alive."

but i never knew how to make you stay alive. 5/31/2010. 1:34am.

you are the reason for my obsession with obituaries.

Sarah Wilson Mar 2011

you are the reason for my obsession with obituaries.

i looked at that hole in the ground
and i thought of you.
i thought of the holes in your smile,
and the emptiness of your eyes.
i thought of late nights,
and never wanting to see the sun.
i thought of wandering hands,
and stolen naps.

i thought of feeling whole again,
and feeling loved as i loved.
i thought of waiting for you,
and how i will wait for you.
i thought of padiddle and popeye's,
and funny games and friends.
i thought of the beach at night in march,
and i thought of your porch in june.

i thought of how my heart would stop,
just watching you walk to me.
i thought of how i couldn't breathe,
just listening to you breathe beside me.

and now, three and a half months later,
i look at this empty space in my life.
i think of how easily you could fill it.
and i think of how easily i'd welcome you.

but i'm thinking, now, of you.
of how easily you walk away.
of how easily you break my heart,
steal my breath, cause my tears.
of how easily i blame myself,
when it's all your fault.

but you're leaving this summer,
and i don't care anymore.
i'll carry this broken heart.
i'll carry it until there's no hurt left.
but it won't be yours again.
have a brilliant ******* life.

tuesday, march 15, 2011.

you called me your prodigal daughter.

Sarah Wilson May 2013

you called me your prodigal daughter.

but i wonder, did i ever return?
i love you both, and can never
not even if all of our dreams
came true five, ten, fifteenfold
repay you for all you have done.
but i need a bigger knife, now.
to cut the tension and to saw
out a hole just for me to see
that i can breathe, if i step out.
out from the inner circle, this
circle of ******* truth,
that you granted me access to
and similarly ****** me to.
the pressure is too great, your
expectations are too high for me.
i cannot hold this family up;
certainly hold it together.
i won't be running away again but
please stop making me wish i would.

3/30 for may 2013. my parents.

you can thank her for this, you know.

Sarah Wilson Oct 2012

you can thank her for this, you know.

fall has never felt more like falling
than my head on your shoulder
and your hand on my hip

but there isn't a **** thing poetic
about things you can't have and
things you don't want but
i just remember so much

and it comes in flashes, like
laughing too hard at jim carrey
being regulars wherever we went
getting caught in the cold and
just plain getting caught

you told me if i walk slower,
i won't get as wet from the rain.
so i tried it, and it didn't work.
and where's the poetry in that?

the only thing i'm good at is
keeping you around, but
always too far away.
if i can't make us sound pretty,
i suppose that means i'm over it
and if i'm sick of trying to, well
i suppose that means we're okay

and if i keep trying...
i suppose that means i love you.

"her" being amanda arpin. for making me write even when i don't have much to offer.

You've heard all this before.

Sarah Wilson Apr 2010

You've heard all this before.

I'm the girl that no one sees,
the girl who's constantly begging please.

I'm all of the world's silent suicides,
the one with stories full of shadowed nights.

I'm the one with the ocean eyes,
and nothing but the best of intentions;
the one getting all the honorable mentions.

this was actually much longer. it had a good four or five extra stanzas, but i simply couldn't get them to work right. so, it's quite short. but i'm happy with it. 1:11am.

make a wish.

you've heard all this before. [creative writing class, p.8]

Sarah Wilson Feb 2010

you've heard all this before. [creative writing class, p.8]

I love you, I hate you.
You broke me, you saved me.
Completely original, full of clichés.
You knew me completely, as I knew you.
A stranger to me, as I am to you.
Predictably unpredictable.
Disgusting but endearing.
This is the end, this is the beginning,
of everything we are.
And everything we’re not.

october 2009, creative writing assignment. i turned this in as an elegy, because i meant is as goodbye, a funeral of sorts. it fits, loosely. this poem was hard for me simply because i dislike being honest with myself, my pen, and my paper.

you were the current in my veins.

Sarah Wilson Sep 2010

you were the current in my veins.

i've got this sick neccesity to know where you are, what you're doing.
i've got all this hate and all this grief that says i don't care, i don't.
i've got this craving for your mocking laughter, your sarcastic smile.
i've got all these feelings and nowhere to put them.
i've got all these tears and no reason to cry them.

because can you really grieve over something you never had?
and really, what if it was all a lie?
what if it was all a lie?
tell me how it was for you.
i promise not to cry.
i'm comfortable in my misery.

my glovebox is filled with so much music that isn't fit for listening.
my trunk is filled with so many clothes that don't fit me, anyway.
my heart is filled with so much of you there isn't room for anyone else.
my life is filled with so much that isn't you, i can't help but forget you.

but the sun goes down, and i remember doing nothing but driving.
i remember endless bickering and games of padiddle.
i remember singing, laughing when i told you i liked the way you sing.
i remember hugs, in the car at first. then outside my car.
and then i remember embraces i never wanted to end.
i remember, "see you later," and my whispered goodbye.

but i don't remember when all of it stopped.
you lied, last time.
i haven't seen you later.
and, as a whole?
i'm doing just fine.

but lately, my body just hasn't run the same. 9-13-2010.

You won't understand this.

Sarah Wilson Apr 2011

You won't understand this.

There is something about regret.
There is something about guilt.
There is something about honesty.

You lose the first two,
when you gain the second.

So my sleepless nights,
and my melancholy days,
have vanished.

I'd rather die than live a lie.
I've always been told honesty is the best policy,
but I guess that only applies when you want to hear it.

And it's funny,
but there hasn't been any tears this time.

At least, not until you see the truth.
Sunday, August 8th.

— The End —