Shadow Boy.

Broken fragments of a memory,
fading to a soft sepia.
Your hair's in  your eyes again.
We're laughing,
but I can't remember why.
Your sincerest laugh is
like a hundred bubbles popping
in afternoon sun.
Your eyes really are beautiful.
Each iris a vivid blue,
like an ocean just bound
to take me away.
You grab me up
onto your lap,
out of breath.
Somehow, I'm locking
everything in my mind,
because I know it
can't last forever.
We sit there silently,
two shadows in
the dusk.
I could die of
happiness.
I turn around
just to look at you.
I quietly memorize
each curve of your face.
I trace my finger along
the bridge of your nose,
over your subtle laugh lines,
and end up running all five
through your shaggy dark hair.
I smile as I compare my
creamy skin to your olive tan.
You're looking at me
like I'm the only girl
in the entire world.
Like only I could save you.
I wish I could have.
You squeeze me to your chest
like you could never even imagine
letting me go.
You taste like a summer night,
warm and alive.
You tell me all your hopes,
all your fears,
all your dreams.
We talk for hours,
and never seem to
run out of things to say,
or new things to discover
we have in common.
We finish eachother's sentences,
like punctuation at the end
of a phrase; so perfectly
I can't imagine living
without you.
You strum your guitar gently,
singing a familiar tune.
I harmonize with you,
two voices permanently
entwined, and forever
ingrained in my memory.
You say it's your "heaven".
Now it is my hell.
Now the sun has
finally set.
Shadows disappear.
I remember the
last time we said
goodbye.
I kissed you like
I'd never see you again,
like I always seemed to.
You said you were cold.
You went inside.
I drove away.
The truth came out,
and I am left to wonder
what the hell I did wrong.
I am desperately afraid
to ever love again.
Months have gone by.
Half a year, in fact.
Over and over we'd
talk, fight, block...
Try to be friends.
Impossible.
You've turned into
this monster....
I am afraid of you.
I am scared of the thing
I loved more than life itself.
I loved you so much,
that I almost didn't care
about what you did with her.
I almost did anything
just to keep you here.
I don't want who you are.
I want you you were.
I am mourning the death
of my first love.
I wish I could bury him.
I wish I could forget you
just like everyone else
I've had to bury and grieve over.
But you're still here.
You're still breathing the same oxygen,
walking the same earth,
and doing everything you used to.
But there is a darkness about you now.
You aren't him.
WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HIM?!
How could you kill someone so beautiful?!
You wonder why we can't be friends?
You killed half of my heart.
You are an imposter.
If he still lives somewhere
beyond the sun, laughing atop
a roof in the afternoon,
tell him I'm looking for him.
You'll know who he is.
My shadow boy.



Christina Sawyer (c) 2012.

Expletive.

Those 5 seconds

everyday

nearly kill me.

You know,

the ones where I

briefly want to 

disappear. 

They literally

just about

do

me

in. 

One time I was driving

and something in me 

wanted to ram

into a light pole.

But it turns out

I like concerts too much.

Sometimes, 

I just want to be drunk

or high.

Just once.

Just to see if it works.

Even though

I know it doesn't. 

Because in the end, 

I know I'll run 

into you again,

and have to pretend 

I didn't see you

and that everything 

is just f#*&!$g 

great.

Christina Sawyer (c) 2012

What I Found At The Bottom of My Mug.

You wouldn't know
real love
if it slapped you
across the face.
Actually,
it has.
I remember doing so
quite vividly.
In our world of
recycle bins and
consignment shops,
nothing is treasured.
I suppose being
reused is better than
discarded...
But aren't they the same?
My brain swims
in a sea of caffeine.

I suppose it's better

than drowning. 

Again, I cannot

see the difference. 

I never did learn

how to swim.

Christina Sawyer (c) 2012

2 A.M. on a Saturday morning.

Let's just pretend
for just a moment
that my friends are okay;
that we're all okay.
You keep calling me,
and my thumb keeps hitting
ignore.
I'm good at that.

I feel like part of me
evaporated
with the smoke
as I exhaled.
It's like it
doesn't even matter
anymore.
Even if I achieve
perfection,
you're still jacked up.

What the hell is
your problem?!
I'm pounding on
the glass box:
your cage.
I'm beating it
repeatedly, screaming,
but you're not
listening.

I don't know how to
help you help yourself.
You're lost in a place
I've never been.
Don't worry.
I suppose I'll
catch up soon enough.

Christina Sawyer (c) 2012

"Girl, Untitled."

Disproportionate to your frame,
you quiver with the weight
of the yoke you bear.
You are so small.
Why are you struggling,
attempting the impossible?
Oh, you've caught a chill.
I would lend you my coat,
but this is not bone deep.
Why are you screaming?!
Smoke ingested,
Moth infested,
Truth rejected.
Floating away...soft laughter...
What the hell are you doing?
Where the hell are you?
Who the hell are you?
Since you don't know,
They will tell you.
As they slap the label
across your parched lips,
you don't even care.
At least you have a
Name.

Christina Sawyer (c) 2012

The Glorious Art of Healing.

New belt cinched 'round my waist.
Every hair in perfect place.
You are calling me again.
I forget the answerin'.
I just saw you yesterday
With your arm across her back.
I remember you that way;
I remember us like that.

Can't say I regret a thing.
Can't say I'm still listening.
But those mem'ries haunt my dreams;
Caught up in the way it seemed.

I guess this is moving on:
When both
hope and hate
are

gone.

Christina Sawyer (c) 2012

High Tide.

Come clean.
Tell me everything.
Let it hit me like a tidal wave.
Slow, steady breaths
As I'm enveloped
By the truth.
I will drown in it.
God knows I've been
Suffocating all this time.
Let it carry me out to sea
In a foamy, briny cradle.
Rock me to sleep in the abyss.
Don't bother to pull me in.
There is nothing for me
On the shore.

Christina Sawyer (c) 2012