Both the head and tail of the ouroboros;
I’m terrified of the day this house is quiet and I’m still young. I wouldn’t trade young motherhood for a few more years of being responsible
By Sara Elise MacDougall about 12 hours ago in Poets
There are days (most of them I’ll be honest) that I wish you’d say I love you more, go out of your way to vocalize something
I am reminded: throughout every war we’ve waged, the birds kept singing;
By Sara Elise MacDougall 2 days ago in Poets
Spring’s first buds emerge. You’d think they’d have learned by now. Their hope, premature
What if I never make peace with the time until I see you again?
I can be your hands, so long as I have your mind. Please, God. Not his mind.
I don’t know your face You’re hovering somewhere close I can’t be done yet;
I’m scared of the day the silence I now yearn for becomes deafening.
A decade passes. It would be so easy to just keep surviving.
What ever made me think it could be you? You, off touting the ultra-sanity of your godlessness and burning your insides before you’re
By Sara Elise MacDougall 4 months ago in Poets
The desert is fast. That is the way you have to be here. If you wish to survive, do not let your feet grow roots, lest they be burned for standing in one
I was a child for all of a day. And the thing is, I was not interrupted, the way some are so unfortunate, to be transplanted in the loam of reality
