Sam Alexandra Rose

Author: writersamr

  • Now is not the time

    now is not the time to think about where you’ve come from
    now is the time to be where you are

  • wishes

    what if I never break?

    what if I walk forever undamaged

                                   never dying

                                   never meeting an
    end

    what if

    I never

                   see

    what kills me

                   so greatly

    that would be the

    best thing

  • Puns

    Just told a pun so bad my boyfriend kicked over the kitchen trash can in a fit of rage.

    This is the closest gif I could find to symbolise it.

  • How do you tell new friends about your cancer history?

    I’m asking because I really want to know. In a way, if it’s something that happened in the past, it kind of feels weird mentioning it to someone. But if a person is becoming a friend, you want them to know you better, right? I feel like if someone doesn’t at least know that I had cancer, then they don’t know enough about me, because now it’s a big part of me and my outlook on life.

    (more…)

  • a cancerous week

    so we’re going down this route?
    let’s pretend this is fiction.

    I
    can’t I can’t  I can’t I can’t
    there’s
    too much of it
    there’s
    just too much of it
    when
    will it end
    when
    will it go away
    I
    just can’t I’m sorry 

    I can’t go anywhere without it
    It’s
    been a bad week.
    It’s
    not like I’m holding onto it
    I
    just can’t let it go – it’s holding onto me
    so
    what am I supposed to do? 

    I
    can only apologise to myself
    again
    it’s
    been five years since I found out what was going to happen
    five
    years since that photo was taken
    when
    I forced a smile for the flash
    when
    I had something to say but just couldn’t
    when
    I was silent
    when
    you didn’t fucking notice
    when
    I was in shock and it felt sort of like
    no
    big deal
    when
    I didn’t cry 

    I
    am worse now
    I
    am feeling now
    I
    am five years late

    it’s
    been a cancerous week, alright?
    and
    I don’t mean that like how the
    songs
    and the sayings bandy it around
    not
    “I’m as serious as cancer
    when
    I say rhythm is a dancer”
    but
    actual cancer in forums, songs, tv
    where
    I don’t expect it – cancer creeping
    up
    on me, thrown around everywhere
    and
    I have to deal with it
    and
    I fucking can’t
    I
    just fucking can’t
    it’s
    Friday and I’m drinking and
    there
    is probably something wrong with this
    and
    no I’m not sorry
    but
    there is no need for you to worry
    only
    me
    and
    it’s only me
    let
    me deal with this
    I’ll
    take care of it
    somehow
    in
    the morning things will be
    better
    or worse
    I’m
    not sure
    I’d
    love to share this but I can’t
    I’d
    fucking love to share this but I can’t

  • 12

    I’m just trying to keep afloat today.
    There is a reason why the number twelve
    is at the top of the clock face.
    It’s because each hour is an aspiration,
    every day completion an accomplishment.

    but this is
    mouth-numbingly painful

  • Adulthood

    Remember when you were a kid and
    you thought working for a living was fun?
    Sitting behind your travel agency and
    putting plastic coins in your till, acting like
    a tiny adult in your plastic world with your
    plastic kitchen oven and washing machine,
    teaching your dolls their ABCs, putting
    plastic food in your plastic shopping basket,
    pretending to eat with your plastic cutlery,
    because it was interesting and new.
    But adulthood is repetition. Adulthood is
    buying toilet roll and running out of toilet roll
    and going food shopping and washing up
    and deciding and eating and commuting
    and buying toilet roll and running out of toilet roll
    and sitting and paying and waiting for the weekend
    and shopping and making appointments and
    washing clothes and cleaning and remembering
    appointments and running out of toilet roll
    and making packed lunches and buying toilet roll
    and running out of toilet roll.

  • be with me

    I wrote a poem for you and then
    looked up at the ceiling. I don’t
    know why, because there’s
    nobody there, or so I told myself,
    but now, now I feel something
    like eyes on me through a two-way
    mirror or the haziness of an
    early morning reverie.
    I don’t know if you are or not, but
    be with me,
    be with me.

  • once upon a day

    I wish they hadn’t given you
    a front row seat to your own
    private horror show.
    I wish you could have stayed and just
    watched mine from afar instead
    and helped me pick up the pieces after.
    You would have been equipped
    with just the right broom to sweep
    up the room, and then you could have
    gone on your way, doing all the things
    you had hoped you’d be able to do,
    once upon a day.

  • the best view

    In the dusty haze of dusk
    when the sun glistens
    and the night listens
    for its cue
    there you are 

    as the early summer heat
    meets defeat
    and the pitter-patter drizzle
    sizzles on the street
    I see you

    when glassy daylight shatters
    and all that’s left is midnight matter
    your glowing eyes amidst crazed chatter
    I have the best view 

    [there you are
     I see you
     I have the best view]