–Meant to Be

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on September 25, 2014 by Sarah Haynes

It wasn’t–
You didn’t love me,
and you told me so.

We weren’t–
I got over loving you,
and now you know.

This isn’t–
These words resisted so long,
because I’d let go.

Totalling

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on September 25, 2014 by Sarah Haynes

You are wisps, lacewings, cobwebs.
You are dreams and memories.
The calculator won’t
add us up properly, dearest.
The darkest rooms won’t
conjure you to me, either.

You are feathers, rainbows, perfume.
You are golden and in-flight.
The computer won’t
find you in search engines.
The brightest spot won’t
draw you to me, either.

One plus light and dark and dreams
still totals one.
When will we be
together, not apart?
When will I be a
part of something greater?

Teetering

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , on September 25, 2014 by Sarah Haynes

Drastic, chaotic things call to me–
drown me in could-be, disown me
for turning away to live something
like normalcy.

Mundane, boring things call to me–
blind me with can-do, bind me
for turning toward a life of
normal-seeming.

For (you/me)

Posted in poetry with tags , , on September 16, 2014 by Sarah Haynes

Despite how lazy
I seem to be,
I can’t stand still–
I can’t wait

For you.

I’ve been alternating
Between still and racing,
Between silent and screaming.

For you.

In spite of how hoarse
I am, you’re deaf,
And imagined…so,

For me:

I’m not seeking,
Or screaming, or
Waiting.

But no matter what,
It still seems that
I’m writing.

For me.
And

for you.

The Weight of Watching

Posted in poetry with tags , , , , , on August 28, 2014 by Sarah Haynes

In the distance, I watch
as leaves fall–
some still spring-green and fresh,
surely too new to drop away;
some turned crisp from
the heat of many sunny days.

I feel myself drooping
from the weight of watching.
I am a hollowed-out acorn–
empty and exhausted,
incapable of any movement–
except, eventually, down.

Eventually Asking

Posted in poetry with tags , on August 23, 2014 by Sarah Haynes

And we find ourselves eventually asking–
Did I tell you I love you today?
The answer is no, usually.

Because love is too much, too often.

If you find yourself eventually asking–
Did she love me and say nothing?
The answer is yes, always.

CBSD

Posted in poetry with tags , , , on August 23, 2014 by Sarah Haynes

Call to the beyond,
Hail a cab to mystery, and
Await a stranger.
No need to worry.
Trust in this–in life.

Believe in the road below.
Overhead: dark sky,
With an open destination.

So goes the time–
Lasting as long as
I have the money or the
Charm to keep trekking;
Endeavoring to find you.

Do you feel my pulse in yours?
Reaching out through an
Infinite span of nothingness, deep-
Veined. We are a flowing fountain of
Everythingness; so ready for this.

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