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Sara Jul 2018
Don't force my hand
'cause I'll turn off the tap;
stray droplets might drip
but the flow wont come back.

There's a weight on my heart
but I don't feel the same.
When friends fall out of love;
it is always a shame.
Sara Apr 2020
It’s all smoke and mirrors
one-liner head spinners
it’s a good job I’m a thinker
so I could think better
than to waste my days
on a half-baked, head-**** love.
It could never be quite the same
as what I had in mind; just trust
that if you won’t pick me,
then I won't pick us
Don’t want to settle for less
Sara Jun 2014
smoke the stars
put them into a laurel leaf
as you would tuck your precious child into bed
wrap them up tightly and protect them from the hostile darkness surrounding us

pluck an aeroplane from the sky
dismantle it's metal exterior to leave only the body
use it as a filter, keeping the stars safe
as you hold them between your delicate fingers

set your golden cigar on fire
using erupting volcanoes to light it
and as you breathe in the galaxies and the history of the world
you breath out the clouds, overwhelmed by relief

gently tapping the cold areoplane body
whilst you watch the ashes fall as shooting stars
which cut through the darkness
and scatter onto the Earth like glitter

and as you smoke the stars
your lungs are lined with golden dust
dust of the kings and emperors
dust of the stars
product of 15 minutes in a library
Sara Jul 2014
there's something in the way the waves ripple upon the shore
there's something in the loudness of whispers you can't ignore

there's something in the way my eyes don't sparkle anymore
and I think there's something about it, but i guess i can't be sure

there's something in the way that we leave this world, alone
and there was danger in the way that, in you, I felt at home

there was something in the way that words just glided from your lips
and there were undertones of poison the last time that we kissed

there's something in the way that tears leave tracks all down your face
and there's something in the way you were gone without a trace

there's something in the way a candle flickers in the dark
and there's a universal understanding that most goodbyes are hard

there's something in the way that words can break a heart
yet there's a gentle kind of beauty in the way we fell apart
coming out of block now, first poem in about a month


bitter isn't better, make peace with your past x
Sara May 2018
your footprint is still on my floor,
beer bottles stand still on my table
I won't ever see you again but
we rely on the kindness of strangers
the kindness of strangers
Sara Dec 2018
keep me wrong to make me right,
hold me down and make me strong,
pull me in just to stand me up,
I've been your canvas all along
Do I look like a doormat?

////
Sara Feb 2020
Thoughts wash over the mind
like torrential, self-inflicted rain.
But I'm hooked on stormy seas
and allergic to plain sailing,
- drunk on self-stimulated danger.
Like a **** show on the TV
you can turn it off when you please,
but the white noise occupies your mind,
so you turn it up and press repeat.
solving the problem that never was
Sara Nov 2019
there's a world inside your mind
and it wants you to find
a place for others,
without changing
the bookshelves
the music
or the way that you walk through the door.
It might be the means of replacing
the fear which stops you from living
and giving
and laughing
as yourself.
don't be afraid to open up
Sara Jun 2018
You were my sunshine,
my only sunshine;
since, you set behind the hills of time,
I
have finally seen the beauty in moonlight.
never be with people who don't encourage you to be your best self
Sara Jul 2018
It became a long
and drawn out mess.
You push me back, I'd pull you in
just to counteract the loneliness.

I don't really want you,
I'll confess.
I just want things that I'm not meant to;
the feel of forbidden sweetness.

I will wear a little less,
each time you say no more;
just as you feel like you forget,
you'll smell the smoke beneath your door.
Sorry if this offends anyone?
Sara Jun 2018
He's cherry liqueur,
keeps his cards face-down,
sweet enough to be a sweet
but still a little bit sour.
Deep, dark thinker
but not one to wear a frown
and so he puts me in my place
from the inside out.
Sara May 2018
He always wrapped up
when he went outside.
Buttons up to the top,
scarf wrapped around twice.

Hat pulled down tight
with his earmuffs on,
skin windswept white,
all sunny summer long.
Trying to explore the loneliness that comes with mental illness
.
family matters
Sara May 2014
Let me start by saying
I don't believe in love
But please let me explain
that it's just a rule of thumb

I say I hate the world
as I have a fear of rejection
I'm slightly socially awkward
especially when showing affection

However, beneath the surface
is another side to me
which i hide away from the world
for only a few to see:



I act like I'm the best
because I feel like I'm the worst
I shake my fringe and lower my head
when I'm uncomfortable or hurt

I have a tendency to overthink
and I get jealous easily
and I find it hard admit
as I'm afraid of people seeing all of me

I don't like to tell people these things
as it makes me feel vulnerable
just like I'll only sing to you
when I am feeling comfortable

I know you know I say 'shut up'
when what I really mean is 'yes'
there's a reason I'm telling you all these thing
that I probably should confess

I wanted to let you know me
but I was unsure how to do it
so I had to write a poem
or I'd be too awkward to get through it

So I have to tell you in a poem
how I really feel
before I change my mind
and the truth is never revealed

I say I'm really good with words
when actually, I'm just average
I'll say one thing but you'll know I mean another
if you watch my body language

I say that i don't give a ****
and that is sometimes true
but you can tell I'm lying
if I can't look at you

I've said I don't believe in love
yet I believe in fate
and I guess I like you quite a bit
so I'll tell it to you straight

i don't like expressing emotions
so forgive me if I'm blunt
but listen close to this
because I'll only say it once

-

I like the way you sing to me
though sometimes out of tune
I like the way when we lie down
you let me be the little spoon

I like how we don't have to talk
when we lay side by side
I love it when you tell me
that you miss me late at night

I hate your slow replies
but that's only because I'm needy
I like how we think we're really cute
when others think we're cheesy

I like the way you're patient
and how you hold my hand
i like the way you're respectful
and the way you understand

I like how we feel comfortable
when we're around each other
but i have to admit you're super annoying
when you steal all the covers

Your eyes, I've noticed, do this thing
where they go really soft
and i don't know if you knew
but you do it quite a lot

I like the way that sometimes
in your kitchen we'll slow dance
And normally I'm quite wary
but with you I took a chance

i hate the way you outsmart me
and how you're often right
I hate the way you cross my mind
every single night

I laugh at the face you make
when my hair falls in the way
I find it funny how we insult each other
at least five times a day

'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder'
is what we both live by
but I know I won't feel worthy of you
however hard I may try

I've said I don't believe in love
as it's a common misconception
but maybe I'm starting to think
that every rule has an exception
Sara May 2014
these days,
your eyes are sad and cold
and
there's a noticeable gruffness to your voice
these days

these days,
your clothes are always ripped
and
i seldom see you smile
these days

these days,
you're silent like a ghost
and
the faint smell of cigarettes sticks to you like glue
these days

these days,
i never see you without a bottle
and
i'm unsure why, but you always carry needles
these days

these days,
a man is always on your arm
and
then there's a new one the next day
these days

these days,
i don't know who you are
and
i wish you would come back
*always
although i've never been happier with life, i still cannot forget that some people are not~
Sara Aug 2018
I see tension in the air,
red and green clouds everywhere.
The same old, tried-and-worn affair.
I walk. I can't afford to care.
read it and walk
Sara Jun 2018
Oh, to be a poet
one must be so emotional.
Well, no. Not necessarily.
We're only really capable
of understanding feeling,
investigating our emotions.
It doesn't mean we cry all day,
or pass nights in dark rooms moping.

We have lives; come home from work
or get in on a night bus back;
it's from all this experience
that we can draw out fact.
From mundane to extraordinary
we will become inspired.
Our strength is versatility
and life ignights our fires.

So, we do not all have to be
constricted to intensity
-to ponder oh-so seriously
on what it simply means 'to be'.
We can be strong, flirty, or mean
or to the brim with confidence.
For, what does 'to be a poet' mean,
if you cannot explore yourself?
'Our strength is versatility' is something I feel is very important and sometimes forgotten among stereotypes of what poetry should be about
Sara Mar 2020
Energy is so unique
it speaks
straight to the soul and
wraps like ribbons round the bones.

Soft like smoke to touch,
but hot like smoke in the lungs.
You don't need to say too much,
unspoken words say enough.

It's not simply mystical
Einstein said it's empirical
since everything's vibrational;
why do we seal our lips and
claim love is unascertainable?
love

imagine how much love we let pass us by because we don't speak out
Sara Mar 2019
My tongue moves
as metaphors
washing up against sandy shores
to gently break and build
the beach
to how it stood
just years before.
Sara Aug 2014
the winter cold
seeps into my bones

and the image of you
comes back to me too

i thought i forgot
but i clearly did not
writer's block has taken its toll

~why can't i write anymore?
Sara Jul 2014
the ***** tastes like
an untamed firework
which attacks my throat
but I like it

the ***** feels like
the reason behind
all the poems I wrote
but I need it

the ***** is like
glitter set in my veins
which helps me to float
and I love it

the ***** is you
and until you were gone
I just didn't know
we should not mix
Sara Jun 2014
a blonde waitress in a diner on minimum wage
located off route 66
reads a battered book with a missing last page
hoping to find a quick fix

with no family, friends, or cash to her name
she needed to find a way out
but a greying old man with a monocle came
and quickly sorted her out

he placed a tablet before her
and ran off in a terrible state
but he called back over his shoulder
"oh my goodness, how could i be late?"

she was puzzled and thought she had imagined it
as the night shifts had made Alice sleepy
but she peered down at the strange looking tablet
and made out the two words 'eat me'

'what harm could it do?' she inquired
as she carefully picked up the pill
as she swallowed, her throat was on fire
and she began to feel rather ill

her surroundings, they became hazy
and her the blood in her body ran cold
she convinced herself it was a daydream
as she felt herself fall down a hole

she fell with a thud, then looked around
and noticed that objects were massive
then she realised that she was 10 feet underground
stuck in a dark, ***** passage

a light in the distance lead her to a door
'what's behind it?' Alice then wondered
and as she was now incredibly small
she was able to just slip right under

peering around, she was taken aback
as Alice saw things she did not understand
in the midst of the night lay a large cheshire cat
which grinned and said 'Welcome to Wonderland'
i know the details aren't right and it's not really in chronological order but it's just my interpretation of alice and wonderland by lewis carroll because that dude was high as hell when he wrote it :)))))))))))))
Sara Jun 2014
i will watch as you walk away with pieces of my brittle heart lodged into your palms
and i hope they sting every time her hand slips into yours

i will watch empty promises tumble from your mouth as you exhale  
and i hope you choke on them

and as you breathe in every molecule of her perfume
i hope the scent stings your nose

i will watch you kiss her and kiss her and kiss her
and i hope it's the best experience of your life

so i watch you fall from grace as she discards you like a jumper she has outgrown
and i taste the same sweet satisfaction you did when she kissed you

i watch as a drunken mess
because the hangovers hurt much less than even a fleeting thought of you
once again:
whoever you think this is about, think again
Sara Aug 2018
There's a bird caught in a cage somewhere
and she sings the sweetest song.
A natural beautiful sound;
the Man tells her she's singing it wrong.

She's singing, it's sinning;
bird, stop. She's singing,
he's spinning, then stop...
and a crack...
his mind snaps in his hands.
Some will never understand
the strength in nature's one (wo)man band.
Sara Sep 2014
sat on a cobbled street
concealed from the prying eyes
i take a guilty drag of my cigarette
though i know you hate me smoking

i talk to myself aloud
and pretend you're here with me
whilst the smoke flows from my mouth
though i know you hate me smoking

i haven't seen you
in a while, four days to be precise
and a tear falls from my eye
because i know you hate me smoking

i miss you
every day and i miss you with all i have
if you were here you'd say i shouldn't be so sad
though you really do hate me smoking

all the times when we were high
discussing travelling through time
and the defnition of comfort
and how much you hate me smoking

now you're far away
and i'd give just about anything
to hear you one more time
to say how you hate me smoking
((2018 edit: dont be slippin))

— The End —