stop.

stop. a poem by sandra.

I wrote this as a short narrative when I was about 17 years old. I found it in an old notebook a few months ago when I hit the jackpot in my basement. I played around with it a few different ways but finally landed at this ‘conversation‘ version… 


Stop.
. . . . . . . You don’t want me to stop.
I’m can’t do this again.
. . . . . . . We’ve never done it before.
But I have… and…
. . . . . . . No, you haven’t. Not with me.
I don’t like you that way.
. . . . . . . Yes, you do.
It doesn’t matter.
. . . . . . . It matters.
No. It doesn’t. It can’t.
. . . . . . . Yes, it can. And it does.
Let me go…
. . . . . . . You don’t want me to let you go.
I do… because it’s inevitable.
. . . . . . . Yes it is – we will be together.
No. The pain is inevitable.
. . . . . . . I won’t hurt you.
Everyone does eventually.
. . . . . . . Not me.
You won’t mean to but you will.
. . . . . . . Never. Trust me.
I can’t. I’m scared.
. . . . . . . I promise you can trust me.
But I trusted him and…
. . . . . . . He is not me.
He hurt me.
. . . . . . . He didn’t deserve you.
Maybe I didn’t deserve him.
. . . . . . . You didn’t. You deserve better.
That’s not what I meant.
. . . . . . . But that’s what I mean.
Are you going to let me go?
. . . . . . . No, I’m not.
But I’m broken.
. . . . . . . Not broken. Beautiful.
You never told me before.
. . . . . . . I was afraid to be your rebound.
You’re not… you’re something else.
. . . . . . . See? You do like me that way.
I didn’t say that.
. . . . . . . But I know it’s what you meant.
You have to stop kissing me.
. . . . . . . You don’t want me to stop. And I don’t think I can.
You have to let me…
. . . . . . . You kiss me like you never want to stop.
… let me think…
. . . . . . . Sometimes you think too much.
I’m trying to protect myself.
. . . . . . . I will protect you.
Why are you doing this?
. . . . . . . Because I love you.
You can’t love me.
. . . . . . . Too bad. I do.
Stop laughing.
. . . . . . . I can’t help it.
Stop making me laugh.
. . . . . . . No. I make you happy.
How do you know I’m happy?
. . . . . . . Oh, honey, I can feel it.
What do you feel?
. . . . . . . When you smile, it feels like heaven.
What if you can’t see me smile?
. . . . . . . It doesn’t matter – I still feel it.
What if I cry?
. . . . . . . When you hurt, there’s a knife in my heart.
And you’re always here for me…
. . . . . . . I know when you need me.
That seems impossible.
. . . . . . . I know when you want me, too.
I’m not even sure I know that.
. . . . . . . Yes, you do.
Stop smiling at me.
. . . . . . . Why? You make me happy.
Because when you smile, I can’t stop smiling.
. . . . . . . Then don’t stop.
I think I want another kiss.
. . . . . . . I think you can have all you want.
What if I want you to stay with me?
. . . . . . . I’m not going anywhere…
I think that might be okay.
. . . . . . . You think? Maybe? Okay?
Stop laughing.
. . . . . . . I think you know it will be perfect.
Maybe.
. . . . . . . Definitely.
I think you’re impossible.
. . . . . . . And you love me.
And you love me.
. . . . . . . Yes, I do.
Are you going to kiss me again?
. . . . . . . I’m never going to stop.

. . . . . . heart swirl.

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About what sandra thinks

Sandra is a writer, blogger, poet, artist, emotional disaster. She thinks far too much and sleeps far too little. Sandra lives in the Northeastern U.S. but dreams of an oceanfront home in Hawaii where she could learn to surf. She loves music, brutal honesty, coffee, and the color black. She hates insincerity, beer, whipped cream, and facebook. And she is uncomfortable talking about herself in the third person.
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40 Responses to stop.

  1. Wow! Great old notebook find! At first, I was afraid this was about being forced by this guy. But I was relieved when things turned sweet! You’ve had some nice guys in your life lucky girl. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • I was worried that would be the first thought… but I couldn’t bring myself to change the “stop” that kept showing up. It worked for me.

      Oh, and when I wrote the original back then, it was fiction. It was around the time just after my first serous boyfriend took off without explanation. I was looking for the guy I made up in this story. (Some of the otherin that notebook near this was very sad and a little bit angry!)

      But I have had some very nice guys in my life. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  2. stephieann8 says:

    Amazing! Your writing always gets to me in such an emotional way.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Pingback: Epically Awesome Award – Worldly Words

  4. An amazing write for a 17 year old.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Haylee says:

    Loved this and to think the basis of it was penned as a teen – fantastic! It seemed a little clandestine to begin but was lovely to have such an affectionate ending 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  6. That was amazing – that too for a 17 year old! Very well written! Love it!

    Liked by 1 person

  7. theturtle says:

    You mean…there’s loads more ? Get to work girl 😉
    We would love to read more , no matter if you leave them “pure- teenage..ish” or if you “arrange” them like you did here 🙂
    Turtle Hugs

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh… yes… there is more. I will have to review again. The bins are still in my bedroom, partially sticking out from under the bed, threatening to trip me daily. Perhaps I should post the page of boys names and numbers. 😉 Hahaha… 😀

      Liked by 1 person

  8. The V-Pub says:

    Beautiful, Sandra! I love finding old poetry. It’s like going back and reliving those experiences once again.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. WOW!! Simply mesmerising!

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Now, this sounds like some delicious goings-on happening in the younger ladies life 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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