The Steep Mountain


By the mountain bound I walk with thee

through snow and ice you carried me

arms linked,bodies close

how I never wanted  to let go

through the whipping winds you walked

trugging step for step

my face guarded, nuzzeling in your neck

your breathing grows heavy as you climbed

with each step your muscles cried

you held  me a little tighter

grasping onto warmth

each toe getting colder

as we headed up north

I saw the smoke in the distance

we were getting closer

to our final destination

just a few steps further

When we walked up to the door

our bodies fused together

God only knows how long we can stay here

or  if we get kicked out

in the cold for another long day.

 

 

Inspired by a poater in the library.. I don’t write like this usually.

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Welcoming Fall.


Even though its starting to get cold, I’m welcoming fall with open arms. 

The fall is one of my favorite seasons.Besides the fact that its the almost the ending of the year, I love how everything is starting to change around you and you really don’t realize it until your nose begins to run or you’re starting to look down and see leaves on the ground. To me fall is a reflection time. In the fall I reflect on the past season. I analyse each event that had happened in the past 3 months wondering if I could have done more with my time or if I managed to learn alot in a short period of time. To me everything I do is a lesson learned later. Whether it be working as a cashier or meeting new people, everything to me a lesson or a skill that I will need in days to come. Fall to me is like inventory is a for a store. I figure what I have in my brain that I will need to keep for the upcoming year. It’s like spring cleaning but without spring. 

Another reason I enjoy fall is the clothing. I really hate showing my body to the world and wearing a bathing suit especially in public is not on my top list of favorite things to do. I love wearing socks and uggs and long pants. I love wearing warm clothes and sweatpants.Fall is a cuddling season. When I was younger I loved to cuddle. My cousins hated when I slept over because I always cuddled. Now, I don’t cuddle, maybe with a few, but if I’m falling asleep, I need to sleep alone.The other night Cheekz and I had a sleepover and I got absolutely no sleep because I kept waking up and seeing her there. Maybe I’m just used to sleeping by myself, but I can’t have people touch me or hold me when i sleep. I guess cuddling isn’t for me.but regardless of my lack of cuddling, I love fall nonetheless.

Welcome Fall. Can’t wait to see what you and winter bring this year! 

sarah.

 

 

Sniffle #2


 

I felt like I was coming down with something. Like a cold I couldn’t shake off; like a never ending allergic reaction. I looked out the window hoping something could give me relief. I sniffled, breathing out of my mouth along with a moan of frustration. It had been six weeks and I felt like I was getting worse. Crumbled up tissues surrounded me like a barricade. The waste basket was already filled to the rim and I refused to throw my snot on the floor. I grabbed the tissue box and rocked it in my arms like a child. I took one out as the sandpaper tissue hugged my already pink tinted, scaly nose. I blew.

Looking out the window I stared at the many people scurrying down below. They looked like small ants in stiletto heels and glittery shirts.  Their hair bounced as the light wind from the late autumn night caught it. They linked arms with tall men with broad shoulders and shiny shoes. The radiant glow of the moon made shadows behind them as they walked past the tall cement buildings. I sniffled again, grabbing another tissue out of the box. I leaned my clammy face against the moist, cool window and sighed with relief. The city lights were so far from reach. I closed my eyes as I breathed slowly out of mouth.

The low melody of my Beethoven cd was on its last track and I wasn’t going to start it again. Standing from the warmth of the sill, I proceeded to my bedroom that reeked of antiseptic and eucalyptus. My tired, swollen eyes scanned the room. It felt so stale, so repeated, so boring. I looked down at my black pumps still sitting in its box not yet worn. I sniffled again. Maybe next weekend I would feel better enough to go dancing, or to at least debut my new shoes. I took off my clothes to change into fresh pajamas, even though I didn’t leave the house all day, and climbed into bed.

I opened my eyes to the blaring of honking horns and screeching breaks outside the open window. Rubbing my crusty burning eyes, I looked out at the sunny day. It was a Sunday and I thought Sunday was a day of rest. I slid out of bed and walked over to the open window and shut it, closing myself from the rest of the world. I slipped on my pink fuzzy slippers that looked like wet dog hair and dragged my stiff tired legs to the bathroom.

Looking at my reflection I noticed that any amount of color that had ever been in my face had been drained out. I spit in the sink as I sniffled. I ran my fingers through my dried out frizzy hair and shook my head with disgust. This sickness was not going to overpower me. I turned on the shower and waited for the steam to fill the small bathroom. The mirror began to fog up, fading my reflection in the mist. I leaned against the sink and put my head in my hands. Frustration filled my brain as the steam began to seep through my congested nose. I sniffled again.

The rest of Sniffle… It’s due tomorrow. 

Sarah.

               

Sniffle.


I felt like I was coming down with something. Like a cold I couldn’t shake off; like a never ending allergic reaction. I looked out the window hoping something could give me relief. I sniffle, breathing out of my mouth along with a moan of frustration. It had been six weeks and I felt like I was getting worse. Crumbled up tissues surrounded me like a barricade. The waste basket was already filled to the rim and I refused to throw my snot on the floor. I grabbed the tissue box and rocked it in my arms like a child. I took one out as the sandpaper tissue hugged my already pink, tinted, scaly nose. I blew.

Looking out the window I stared at the many people scurrying down below. They looked like small ants with stiletto heels and glittery shirts on.  Their hair bounced as the light wind from the late autumn night caught it. They linked arms with tall men with broad shoulders and shiny shoes. The radiant glow of the moon made shadows behind them as they walked past the tall cement buildings. I sniffled again, grabbing another tissue out of the box. I leaned my clammy face against the moist, cool window and sighed with relief. The city lights were so far from reach. I closed my eyes as I breathed slowly out of mouth.

The low melody of my Beethoven cd was on its last track and I wasn’t going to start it again. Standing from the warmth of the sill, I proceeded to my bedroom that reeked of antiseptic and eucalyptus. My tired, swollen eyes scanned the room. It felt so stale, so repeated, so boring. I looked down at my black pumps still sitting in it’s box not yet worn. I sniffled again. Maybe next weekend I would feel better enough to go dancing, or to at least debut my new shoes. I took off my clothes to change into fresh pajamas, even though I didn’t leave the house all day, and climbed into bed.

The beginning of my new fiction piece..Inspired by my mornings… 

Ironic enough that a second after I wrote this piece, I sneezed.. 

Sarah.