#sarah kay
maybe i’m just distracting myself. maybe i’m using them so there’s no room to think of you. maybe having good days gives my brain something else to do.
—maybe I’m healing
MO
never let him ruin a song for you that plays on the radio; you will never heal.
—MO
“now I know why they compare heartbreak to drowning; it is so damn hard to breathe when I think about you.”
—MO
on the nights i’m feeling my best, dancing on stages and running across fields, I’m still doing it for you.
I don’t bury my heartbreak in my bedroom because there is no place for me to show off.
-MO
“it is okay if your heart is still shaking,
if it feels like bits of you are breaking off with each day.
God meant for you to feel this way
so he could shape you:
adding wheels and an engine,
making you into something
that can move on.”
—an excerpt from this poem I wrote
anytime someone starts a sentence with, “but you were doing so much better!” I want to tell them the amount of times i’ve cried since tuesday. if it seems like i’m doing better, i’m just holding myself up with duct tape.
-but hey, maybe that is improvement
for those of you struggling with negative and toxic thoughts:
they are lies. do not let them trick you into thinking you are anything but worthy.
—MO
“my shadow has been following me around for far too long. maybe that’s why i’m eating less; as if i’m trying to make it smaller.”
—MO
“It’s not you, it’s me” becomes more and more of a lie as I remain the constant each time.
MO
what it looks like to move on
it’s catching your tears as they fall,
or better yet not having to cry at all until 10 pm.
it’s staying a little longer at the party even though you may see him
(not to be confused with staying for him).
it’s refusing to stay in bed
as you say no to the toxic thoughts in your head.
it’s still allowing yourself to spend time alone,
because there were things left unsaid,
that only you know.
but there’s a danger in doing that in your own home.
behind shutters and locked doors,
the unsaid words will become one with the floor boards,
asking to be walked on.instead be alone on the lawn.
on picnic tables,
humming songs
on drives with the windows down.
you need to invite the town
into your heartache-
because their love is the only way you will move on.moving on doesn’t mean you can’t think about him,
it doesn’t mean you’re any less thin
from the meals you didn’t eat.
it doesn’t mean you don’t look for him in every empty seat,
darting your eyes across the room,
wondering:
where is he.it is okay if your heart is still shaking,
if it feels like bits of you are breaking off with each day.
God meant for you to feel this way
so he could shape you:
adding wheels and an engine,
making you into something
that can move on-MO
I think about how I love you sometimes. but how I never told you; how I never told anyone.
// this poem and my therapist are the only ones who know I love you
-MO
moving on doesn’t mean you can’t look in your rear view mirror. it’s okay to slow down. it’s okay to stop.
—just don’t turn the car around
for once I would like to wake up to the sound of the birds and fall back asleep. I am tired of waking up to the speed of my own heartbeat, making it impossible to fall back asleep.
—anxiety is a brutal alarm clock
I don’t think I ever understood the beauty of gardens until God pruned me.
—to blossom you must have bruises
moving on doesn’t mean you can’t look in your rear view mirror. it’s okay to slow down. it’s okay to stop.
—just don’t turn the car around
MO
what it looks like to move on
it’s catching your tears as they fall,
or better yet not having to cry at all until 10 pm.
it’s staying a little longer at the party even though you may see him
(not to be confused with staying for him).
it’s refusing to stay in bed
as you say no to the toxic thoughts in your head.
it’s still allowing yourself to spend time alone,
because there were things left unsaid,
that only you know.
but there’s a danger in doing that in your own home.
behind shutters and locked doors,
the unsaid words will become one with the floor boards,
asking to be walked on.
instead be alone on the lawn.
on picnic tables,
humming songs
on drives with the windows down.
you need to invite the town
into your heartache-
because their love is the only way you will move on.
moving on doesn’t mean you can’t think about him,
it doesn’t mean you’re any less thin
from the meals you didn’t eat.
it doesn’t mean you don’t look for him in every empty seat,
darting your eyes across the room,
wondering:
where is he.
it is okay if your heart is still shaking,
if it feels like bits of you are breaking off with each day.
God meant for you to feel this way
so he could shape you:
adding wheels and an engine,
making you into something
that can move on
-MO
When I look into the mirror,
all I hear
is “you are not enough”
from those who were potential loves.
I think of ways to make myself interesting,
Because I do not think I am capable of captivating
someone
for more than a season.
Where the sun
always ends in so much rain.
There is no bridge from drought to flood
As I drown in pain.
This is why I am always so afraid
To love someone new.
I dig my foundations into the ground,
And they are just passing through.
Never thinking I am beautiful enough to stick around
when I am in full bloom.
When there is nothing left for me to do.
So I sit there.
Waiting for the flood to pass through,
Waiting for it to break me,
In hopes of becoming something new.
But I never do.
So I sit there.
Waiting to be picked,
And so badly, wanting it to be you.
-MO
your favorite weather is fog. it’s ironic because I didn’t see you coming
//or leaving
MO
“It’s not you, it’s me” becomes more and more of a lie as I remain the constant each time.
MO
a letter to jesus about my anxiety:
every morning I watch the sunrise
as I
can not.
instead, I watch the ropes tie
themselves
tighter around my bed.
I listen to my heart beat race,
I lose my thoughts as they pace
around the room.
every morning, I wait for you
to let the ropes loose.
and you do!
every time.
reminding me what freedom tastes like.
but once you were tied up,
like me,
nailed to two planks from a tree;
your only comfort being
you died for me.
so as I lie,
and wait for the sunrise,
I too will find
comfort.
because it was for me you died,
and it’s time
I spent more mornings
being alive.
-mo
