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sarah rogan Feb 2021
"we can't stay here”
i am the shoulder on the highway
i am the roof of your car
i am the full moon who tries to lie to you
(these colors will last forever)
(this melting starless sky will never change)
the night air stumbles and slurs,
"i love you too, sarah"
i am climbing back in through the window
i am the blanket pulled tighter around your shoulders
i am your hot coffee from this morning, just colder
come back
               tomorrow?   i'll
                                                be warmer,
                                                         ­           and you'll want me again.
sarah rogan Sep 2020
think about the decision                                        wall white
you're making before   you
                                           make it,
                                                    good? ** lead
                                                   to cozy?
                                                          r­ainbow
                                                     go ahead
                                          you know you shouldn't?
why would she change?                 bad? scary?
            dark                                          ­                    hurt?
                                       ­                                             dont
               ­                                                                 ­  follow
                                                        ­               or hold
                                                            ­             on to
kaleidoscope                            off off off
        play & rest
sarah rogan Feb 2021
receding light, "we have to get down"
i am asleep on a friends couch
i am running my fingers through my bed-head tangled hair
i am the word, “coffee?”
the floating sound of taylor’s new album
the reflections of myself as he curls up in the backseat to read
knees to his chest in his own little world
i am the sunlight and the wind
intersecting across the tangle of blue peaks
where wild blueberries ripen in July
where you lift glass to your lips and i stare at my hands,

— The End —