Coquette-A small collection of love poems

Coquette-A small collection of love poems

By Sara Cheesewright



Every time I’m in the passenger seat

and we take the highway,

I see the side of the roads

littered with mangled animals.

A raccoon with tire treads tattooed

across it’s back.

A deer slumped on the edge–where

the grass and the concrete kiss.

Bodies. Fuzzy furry animals

with snapped necks

and broken limbs

drying up with crusting blood.

I don’t mind hunters

I don’t mind eating meat.

As long as we part our lips

and whisper prayers of understanding.

But it is senseless,

how cars speed down the


and carry on,

and on,

over miles

of road, forgetting that strange



and quickly moving




For Dan, who lost his Brother

He is a solivagant. 

One child of many who acts on his own. 

He is a wanderer and solitude

is his first kiss and his favorite lover.

He doesn’t dance but he never drinks alone.

His friends are his friends but they must climb mountains 

to stand in the downpour on a Sunday night and listen to a 

truthful story.

He wanders in order to wear somberness without others 


He drives, he walks, and he propels himself forward. 

Without movement he cannot breath or think. He has lost 

something entirely irreplaceable and his longing to return 

to what isn’t there makes him wander further and further 

until he is gone.




has stained teeth and mojito breath

against the pump redness of my lips

it stung quite nicely when he bit

my bottom lip.

The night around us,

His arms around me--

the fine lines of his beard

nuzzling my neck.

We were in the backseat, 

his fingertips finding their way

underneath me.

His clothes shed, then mine.


Then me, faking it

just to see him smile

with pride.

I pulled my jeans on,

bouncing around in the backseat

while he sped through


He eyed me through the mirror

watched me frown

as I dressed

and he said, "What? You don’t

want me parading you around naked?" 

Trying to get me to smile.

I couldn't.

In front of my house,

I hesitated to leave because

he seemed to smile

and felt

like telling stories.

He filled the space

with words

when he caught sadness

in my eyes. He didn’t want me

to be unhappy.



He didn’t want me to feel in love.

I wanted to rest my head

on his shoulder and watch his

smile forever

but it was almost 2 am

and we would expire soon.

He made sure to kiss me before I left.

And I left.

I left.


Sara Cheesewright is a writer with a BA in English from St. John's University. She has a passion for coffee, long novels, and philosophical conversations. She enjoys spending time with her friends and family, as well as reading and writing as often as she can.

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