Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Dec 2014 Sara
berry
wide awake
 Dec 2014 Sara
berry
i wonder if the doors in the house you grew up in
started slamming themselves to save your father the trouble.
i wonder if you can remember the last time you prayed,
and if you had trouble unfolding your hands.
i wonder if your mother knows
about the collection of hearts you hide in your closet,
i wonder if she could tell mine apart from the rest.
i wonder if your shoes know the reason why
you keep them by the back door and not your bedside.
and sometimes, i wonder
if you ever think about that night when i told you,
you wouldn't need to drink so much if you had me.
but it seems like we only speak when you've got body on your brain,
whiskey in your glass,
your judgement is overcast,
and you know i'm too weak to ignore you.
i learned how to translate your texts
from drunken mess back into english.
i am fluent in apology, but i don't ask you for them anymore.
this is just how it is.
it's not enough for either of us
but ******* it we are not above settling.
so i will ignore her name on your breath,
and you will ignore the fact that this means something to me.
i always thought the first time i kissed you,
it would be on your mouth.
i just wanted to be something warm for you to sink into,
something that could convince you to stay a second night.
but i sneak you out in the early morning,
and you take a piece of my pride with you when you go.
i am left to nurse the hangover from a wine i've never tasted,
wondering how this is possible.
waiting for the next drunk call,
for the next time i get to pretend we are lovers,
the next time i get to live out the fantasy i am most ashamed of.
it is the one in my head where you want me when you're sober too.

- m.f.
 Dec 2014 Sara
Kit John Parish
disappointment fell like snow, and rested against tacky coloured lights
why do I always sit on my own at parties?

I hear the people I call my friends all around me
laughing hollow laughs
for jokes which I didn't hear

too quiet to shout over the terrible music
I just sit and wait
for something that never comes

I imagine a nearby bar
where a local musician plays guitar
or the hill behind me
overlooking a thousand winking street lights
I open my eyes and I'm here

just sitting
 Dec 2014 Sara
Harsh
Spelling
 Dec 2014 Sara
Harsh
I spell “I love you” on the lines of your collarbone

and I always try to go from one end to another,
brushing calligraphy strokes with my tongue
and blotting your skin as a page with my lips.

I never really have finished saying it,
and I guess I never will

my motions are lost among your curves
and my lips almost always end up
meeting yours somewhere in the middle.
 Nov 2014 Sara
Mikaila
Sometimes.
 Nov 2014 Sara
Mikaila
When I was 14
I loved a girl named Amanda.
She swore she'd die for me.
She held my hand.
I never kissed Amanda:
She was with a boy named John.
For 3 years, we burned together like a flame,
Never touching.
And then one day, she understood, and ran away.
She loved me,
And I loved her,
And she ran away.

Then I found Mickey.
She did touch me.
When we kissed I felt gravity shift
And so did she.
And we held on,
We held on as hell rained down
We held on and hurt each other.
We bled
We fought
We loved
We reached for one another
With a need so immense it destroyed.
We fell apart
And then fell back together inevitably, involuntarily.
I looked at her like she was my god.
She looked at me like I was her judgement.
Eventually there came a time when there was nothing she could not hurt me with
And my love for her became an accusation in her eyes.
She ran, too. She boiled herself in guilt
And threw the scalding remnants in my face,
And I was blind,
And I loved her
And she loved me
And we never spoke
Again.

Therese kissed me on her anniversary with Nick.
I'd never had anyone look into my eyes
With such joy.
She broke down my resistance
Melted it.
When she touched me I shook.
I told her I loved her
And I saw a craving in those eyes
For exactly what I offered
And it
Leveled me with longing.
We danced for months, for nearly a year.
She would kiss me in the dark on the little bridge by the lake
And tell me she shouldn't
And kiss me again as if she couldn't stop.
I drowned in her.
If I could have pried my ribs open and offered her my heart,
I would have.
I said things to her
That shocked me.
I kissed her palms.
And she looked at me with those eyes
Full of joy.
Slowly, she opened before me like a rose,
She told me who she was.
She showed me what she hid.
And then one night
We sat at her kitchen table drinking ***** with juice
And we said everything.
She showed me her diary
That she keeps in fear that she will forget who she is.
It said, "Galaxies" on the inside cover.
She'd never shown anyone before.
She kissed me, she tucked my hair behind my ear,
She smiled at me,
And every time my heart broke with love I saw it hit her
Physically
Like a kiss, like a drug.
She held my hands, said they were beautiful
Said she wished she had hands like that
And I said take them
And she saw me mean it.
She took a black pen and wrote "Galaxies" on my left thumb,
Right next to the scar I got the day after Mickey left.
Later we pressed our skin together as if it could make us the same,
And I have never felt so safe or so whole.
She was like velvet
And through everything her eyes held that joy that squeezed my heart.
I knew she was afraid.
She was afraid because she felt it when I touched her.
She felt it when I loved her,
And she wanted it
Too much.
And so when she said she couldn't,
I already knew.
I haven't heard from her in a very long time.
She loves me.
I love her too.
And she may not come back.

Love is not told by touching.
Love is not told by kindness.
Love is not told by staying or going.
Love has no caveats, no clock, no rules.
Love is.
Love is in the eyes: They never lie.
It doesn't matter how chaste,
How cruel,
How brief.
Love is.
It is not required to be joyful, or easy.
Love is not bound to give
Answers--

What is love.
Can one just walk away?
"Sometimes."
Sometimes?


Sometimes.
(In response to Victoria Kelleher's poem "Love")
If tomorrow was that yesterday,
or that morning
came tonight
if for a moment you could have listened
if you didn't always have to be right

if she realized the words  
Get out
really meant
You’d love her help
if you swallowed more than pills
or thought about
more than just yourself

but yesterday left in a sunset
obscured
by a cloud of pride
and for tomorrow
it’s still not too late
but you're running out of time
 Nov 2014 Sara
i
everything for him
 Nov 2014 Sara
i
i hope he wants the bad girls,
the ones with danger in their blood,
and mischief in their eyes.

i hope he likes he sad girls,
the ones with scotch in one hand,
a gun in the other one,
and a cigarette hanging from their
dry, unwanted lips.

i hope he needs the mad girls,
the ones with ***** hands and ***** mind,
making him go insane with just a lick of the lips.

i hope he loves the lonely girls,
the ones who spend sleepless nights
drinking beer from cans, hating
themselves for becoming something
they swore they‘d never become,
for bad, bad boys,
like him.
oh m.
Next page