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An inspirational story of bravery and love

C A N   Y O U H E A R M E ?

written by


Why bother? Because it keeps them from getting out, man. It keeps them down there and me up here. It was Lennon and McCartney who said that all you need is love, and I would agree with that. As long as you keep the gators fed. - Stephan King


CAN YOU HEAR ME? A Lil-sea-salt book / published via an arrangement with

All rights reserved. Copyright, 2017, by Lisa Sat This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by Mimeograph or any other means, without permission. For information contact: Published simultaneously in U.S.A and Antigua.

Can you hear me?


1. Exclamation 2. Have it together 3. This and other poems

Exclamation I’m not sorry. And I know that you think that I should be, from the text messages, from every online post you’ve sent me. And for a while, I guess I was. I felt like it was my fault, that you left because of my antics, and you know what? Maybe yes, you did. I know I’m different, my mom doesn’t like the words ‘messed up.’ I tried to warned you. I was more honest with you than I’ve been with anyone in my life because I thought I finally found someone who could understand. Maybe you left because you were done or easier to say ‘tired of having me pushing you away’, maybe you didn’t feel the same way anymore [unfair of a girl to put in 100 and u to put in 10], or maybe you just found something better. And I don’t blame you, I honestly don’t. I can’t, I’m too stupid, I’ve been thru too much. I know that people change, feelings doesn’t always stay same, and life’s pretty crappy sometimes, I get that. Truly babe, I do. This last year was hell for me and I said I’m not a princess you can save. A sleeping beauty you can just wake up. I just would’ve liked some kind of closure. An explanation. Something more than an admin message saying I’m blocked. Or your friends talk to my friends talk to me. That’s so sick, you can’t just pick up the phone and dial. An internet connection and you can see my face, that’s why it’s called FaceTime You just stopped being there for me. And I needed you. I really did. And I guess in some ways I still do, but you won’t come again, you never do. Not unless I run a marathon after you. And that’s the most stupid thing about our relationship.

That I need you in every possibly way, and you’ll never be there again. So I’m not sorry that you left me, and I’m not sorry that we don’t speak anymore, because it’s not my fault. I don’t know what you want from me. I hate seeing your messages now and I hate that you pretend to talk to girl because you know I don’t like it. It’s cold and cruel. Why do you pull me back? I have nothing more to give. Just know: I tried so hard to be that for you. I made an effort to talk to you, even tho it was a complete waste of my time. I tried because I saw more than the class clown you show to make people accept you. And I am not sorry. Because I was and will always be enough, and you don’t get to make me think I’m not. And at the end of the day I waited for you to get that. I was there for you. You’ll never get that again.

Have it together I’ve spent my life chasing the ideal of the person I should be. Because 16-year-old me will have better friends, and 25-year-old me will land a killer residency, and 30-year-old me will have a New York Times Bestseller. And me 6 months from now will be toned, fit, muscular and me a year from now will finally be more confident [People I work with have told me this over and over again], and me some time from now will be magically better somehow. So much better. For years, this is what I thought. That if I could just wait it out, everything would get better. Life is temporary. High school will end. Med school will end. Residency will eventually end. It took me a long time to realize life doesn’t work that way. Aging doesn’t necessarily mean happier or easier, and it certainly doesn’t mean better; it just means harder to balance. Life isn’t a well plotted rom com, or a to do list, or, fuck-it, some hospital waiting room. We have got to stop waiting. Because life isn’t about growing up to be all that we’ve ever dreamed; it’s just about growing. It’s about love, and change, and crying yourself to sleep when it’s all too much. And working at a Target, and kissing your best friend even though he might not like you back, and calling your mom-figure every Sunday because you miss her like hell. It’s fights, and promotions, and going to do your taxes. And then it’s this: your best friend from med school who had everything going for herself jumping from the fourth floor of the hospital, your high school friends getting knocked up, another wedding of another one of your college friends, the third one this year, but this time you meet a photographer who’s just as down on love and you dance all night, sneak him food while he smiles at the 100 messy pictures and sighs when he finally gets it right. And this: he cries when you say “I do.” And this: a happy-go-lucky kid with your beautiful eyes and his angular nose. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s this: you paint everything, everywhere, all the time, even when the Ralph Lauren modelesque kids make fun of you, and the

teacher the other kids hate because with the bespeckled green apron tells you it’s excellent. Really good. And this: you’re living in a black Toyota corolla, by the grit of your teeth, but there’s a waffle-house across the street that lets you read your poetry, and every time you do when it’s dawn, someone in the crowd finally knows what it feels like to be understood. And this: your words being published. Your words. Being bought by people who could be spending their cash on anything at all. And you sit in your thrift store found mismatch loveseat where you’ve written your entire novel in a dog-eared Moleskine journal, a dozen empty discount bin coffee mugs still dirty on the nightstand, and you scream and tear until your lungs burn and you could claw your eyes out with the pain of finally getting it done. It’s all, and bad things, and good things, and the raw realization that it doesn’t get better or worse, it just gets different. It just changes. Always, always changing. And somehow that makes it more wonderful. Because a future version of you may have the friends, and the boy, and the job, but she didn’t get it by waiting around. She is a product of your efforts. Right now, tomorrow, changing and growing every moment that follows. She is kind, and still breathing, and beautiful. She still doesn’t have it together. And maybe that’s what I’ve learned after all this time: nobody has it together. We’re all just here, floating around in space in pursuit of being something more interesting. We don’t have anything figured out. Maybe we never will. more importantly, I think that’s how it’s supposed to be.

this and other poems

“I don’t want to spend all this time thinking about you. I like you. I’m tired of avoiding whatever it is that’s between us. I’m worried that we’ll never get our chance.” She swallowed, “But what if we ruin it? I’ve known you for so long. I like this friendship, its safe and comfortable.“ "I know,” he said. “But what if we don’t? I don’t want to think of the ‘what ifs’ my whole life.”

Poetry taught me, I’m good at breaking things teach me how to be gentle

There’s a storm behind her eyes hiding her trauma and terror. I’m here, trying to do what no one else has done‌ weather the hurricane.

My heart just fucking hurts no one to blame but myself.

At times I wonder, ‘Where is that girl that I was? At 11? What would she think of me now? Would she be proud?



“You’re good,” she said brushing past him. “At what?” he asked. She was one of those people he’d never bother talking to before. She turned with a half-smile. “Making people believe they are more important to you than they actually are. But not me.”

There’s something beautiful about keeping certain aspects hidden. Not everyone should know Maybe clouds are beautiful because you can’t see the tops.



Anonymous, found on Pintrest. Please identify if known.

We live in an era, where we’re prescribed to feel guilt whenever we cut someone out. some people do need to be unfollowed and blocked out. Internet rule mandates don’t burn bridges and keep everything around like relics Simply put, we don’t need to know even if it might hurt feelings.

Two years after A girl sits in front of her ex love. He sits in silence. Bite his lips As her eyes doesn’t ache for him anymore. Her hair is longer than it’s ever been. She is even more beautiful for every day he left her. And at that moment, He panics. An internal scream of anguish He’s lost. her. And he can never have her. again. He can just watch her. be. in love With him. A new love.

so many knives stuck in me, when they hand me a flower I can’t quite understand. It takes time.

I wish you were a stranger, I don’t want to look at & see poetry tangled

screw up, nobody’s saying anything means they gave up. on me. And that’s a lesson & a very bad place.

When you hurt people, they begin to love u less. That’s what care-less words do.

A sea of water can’t sink a ship unless it gets inside. Similar is, negativity.



All blossom when we feel loved, and wither when we don’t.

When you stop expecting perfect you can like who they are.



photographs. proof once, just for a heartbeat, everything was perfect. 5


at 11:30 AM on a Sunday you’ll make coffee and pancakes and it’ll all be alright. ‘cause, you’ll have him.

it’s possible to love for entirely selfless reasons, and still not succeed in having love back. It’s sad, perhaps, but not sadness, unless you dwell in the pursuit of their elusive affections

you can miss something, but not want it back You, for example

He let her. go. he couldn’t stop. his hands were haunt by her.

Beware, when fighting monsters, do not become them‌ when you gaze into the abyss. The dark also sees into you.

our broken pieces fit, parts of me that I had lost, I had now found again.

Maybe we’re just another cheesy, sappy, love story, but, that’s okay.

I saw your eyes In the sun I lost you again In the scorch

Do not go where I can’t see. u.

I’m scared. I see you in every little thing. We’re over. I’m weak, indeed.

you were born with weakness. to fail. with strength. to fight.

People go but how always stays

You were so far, I forgot you. all.

once. the storm passes, you won’t remember you won’t even be sure, over. Certain is. you won’t be the same person That’s what this storm is.

“They fell for her beauty then ran from her mind.�

so much time admiring the koi swimming I forgot to look at me.

People will make promises they can’t keep. cut you at the knees to protect their treasures. Things you cannot see

Lie. Cheat. Steal. People will wreck you. They will laugh so hard their ribs nearly tear cross oceans to hold their own. Because people are cruel and beautiful and breathing

in another world, i do not wait. i etch my name in the skies. constellation. i leave the legacy of a woman who was left behind.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Hey guys I just wanted to put a quick note here. None of this art is mine. I got it off Tumblr, Pintrest, or I got it off Google images. I was inspired by a lot of this art and I didn’t want to ruin in by putting in the references, for some images I did edit them to fit my vision of thought. Some of the images were so generic that I didn’t think they would need a reference, but for the more specific I tried to put in the reference at the bottom of the page. I wanted the focus of this collection to be on the words, not the ink drawings, but I thought the presentation was a lot higher quality with added images. I know this is the internet, so I was not trying to steal any of the images presented. I was just trying to create something to show my appreciation for other artists work and showcase my poetry. I would like to thank my family and the Tumblr community for showing appreciation for my work and the dozens of amazing messages of support and some hate from the fans of this. Thank you so much, especially to the trolls who complained about how the first one needed some images. I’ve accomplished a lot in a month and I wanted to thank this spurt of growth to the trolls out there. And always, thanks for the hate.

Also to any artist whose work is presented here, if you feel uncomfortable with the way your work was represented or would like the credit displayed in another manner please let me know. I will remove it/credit it. Email is next to the title page. Also the cat used in the beginning of the piece belongs to the artist who tattooed Anna Akana, one of my favorite youtubers. I cannot find his name.

Can You Hear Me?