Poetry

Possessed

“She wanted him to be hers,
like she needed air in her lungs.”

She wanted him to be hers, like she needed air in her lungs. Their entire future together flashed in front of her eyes and she knew he was the one. But she failed to realize that it was all in her head and he was nothing like she imagined. Before she knew it, after a string of excuses, apologies, and forgiveness, she found herself trapped with no way out. The worst part was, she no longer felt like herself, and lacked the strength to try to break free.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

There is always a way out.
Don’t give up trying

Poetry

Open Eyes

“Your eyes, they tell me all your secrets.”

Your eyes, they tell me all your secrets. I see the happiness. Those rare moments when you’re unguarded, free. I see the hesitation. Your heart telling you to dive, but your mind cautioning you to wait. And I see the fear. That moment you realized it was too late. For better or worse, you’d fallen. But, darling, I don’t mind. Because I will protect your heart until my last breath.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

Until my last breath,
I’ll keep you safe.

Poetry

Forever Midnight

“I accepted my place in the darkness
and made it a home.
Still lost, but still home.”

It’s been years since I’ve seen the light of day. Years trapped in a place of perpetual darkness. A forever midnight, under a blanket of stars and among a land with violent creatures that lurk in the shadows. It took time, but I’ve adapted. Now, my eyes can see. Now, my instincts are heightened and I’ve learned to listen to them. Now, I have a place to lay my head to rest. I accepted my place in the dark wood and made it a home. Still lost, but still home.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

No matter how hopeless your circumstances seem,
there’s a way to adapt, there’s room for hope.
Don’t give up.

Poetry

Heartbreaker

“How can you not see that you’re the one
taking pieces of my broken heart?”

How can you say I’m the love of your life when time and time again, you choose someone else? How is it that I am always caught in your web, waiting for the moment you’ll discard me like a piece of trash?

How can you not see that you’re the one taking pieces of my broken heart?

© Sarah Doughty
2017

I refuse to be labeled by
your own insecurities.

Poetry

Tortuous Love

“But let me tell you this: she was never
supposed to be tortured for loving you.”

You’re always keeping her at arm’s length, but your eyes are never far away. You tell her how much you need her, but continue to pretend you love someone else. Your presence in her life is like a car wreck happening in slow motion. I don’t know if you are oblivious to what you’re doing, or if you’re dragging her through hell for your own benefit. But let me tell you this: she was never supposed to be tortured for loving you.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

Be careful with how you handle
other people’s emotions.

On Writing, Random Thoughts

Q&A On The Muse

Heya Lovelies,

I’m often asked a series of questions that revolve around my muse and how my prose poems and books come into being. Over the course of the next several weeks, I’m going to shed some light on them in hopes that you’ll see a little deeper into who I am and all that I do.

If you find that the question of the week stirs your mind, feel free to comment with your own thoughts, or answer it for yourself. If you do the latter, be sure to link back to me so I can see it. 


Question:
How does it feel when your muse runs his fingers through your hair, resting his palms bare on your crown?

Answer:

My muse is androgynous, taking on the form of whatever is necessary to fulfill the task. But when it comes out, it’s a rather strange feeling. It’s like my intrusive thoughts cease and words from another mind begin to form in response to some form of stimulation (one or more of the five senses, sometimes including synaesthesia). 

In terms of poetry, I try to ensnare one moment and throw as much authentic feeling (including those senses) into it as I can. 

When I’m writing my fiction, I transcend myself and become whoever it is I’m narrating. As they go about their lives, my goal is to transcribe those events in as much detail as possible.

In doing so, I’m able to breathe. Because it’s both freeing and relaxing. And that’s something I can’t live without.

Until next time,
Sarah

P. S. If you want to see for yourself what books I have to offer, find your FREE copies at your favorite retailer

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Poetry

Nothing The Same

“In the aftermath of you, everything’s changed.”

In the aftermath of you, everything’s changed. Every inhalation is made with care, as if I might catch what remains of your scent upon my pillow. The beats of my heart no longer hold the same rhythm, and they’re conducting a heartbreaking melody only my ears can hear. This deafening silence you’ve left in your wake has left me pining for another tune, but it never comes. So it’s here, in this ocean of sadness, that I begin to drown.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

I can no longer tell
the difference between
aftermath and nightmare.

Poetry

Seconds

“I feel it. Every place you ever touched me.”

I feel it. Every place you ever touched me. Every word you ever said. Every flash of a smile, and every glimpse of your eyes. It’s like a rush of every moment we spent together, happening in the span of seconds, over far too soon. And all I want is to feel you near once more.

But I can’t, and I’m back at the start, reliving the days when we were “us.”

© Sarah Doughty
2017

This is what it means
to miss you.

Poetry

Scripted

“I could see how she ate up every one of your lines.
Just like I did.”

Maybe it was all in my head, all those things you said to me. How you said them. How you looked at me. Like I was the only thing in your world that mattered. To me, it felt like everything else disappeared when we were together. We were happy then, you and I. At least that’s what I thought until I saw you with her. The same smile and look in your eyes as you told her how she was your world. And I could see how she ate up every one of your lines. Just like I did.

How could I have been so blind?

Or, maybe, you’re just that talented at lying.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

Sometimes even the best intentions
turn out to be little devils in disguise.
It’s not your fault for not seeing the truth.

Poetry

Labels

“Don’t be defined by what you do.
Rather, be who you want to be.”

I am a mother, a wife,
a writer, a friend,
a survivor.
I am the earth,
and I am fire.
I am the wind
and the rain.
I am the moonlight
and the waves.

© Sarah Doughty
2017

Don’t be defined
by what you do.
Rather, be who
you want to be.