Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Brianna Nov 2017
I wanted love like Sunday morning.
Coffee filling the house, the smell of bacon cooking, and a breeze through the windows.

I wanted love like Sunday afternoon.
Jazz playing on the record player, white sheets crumpled under our bodies, and the waves outside our perfect home.

I wanted love like Sunday night.
Wine glasses clinking together, fingers laced together, and crickets chirping in the meadow.

I wanted love like a Sunday morning...
Brianna Nov 2017
What I wanted to say was " leave me alone. I'm no good for you."
but what came out was " I love you too."

What I needed to say was lost behind a tiny glass screen that was much to easy to break.
What I needed you to see was thousands of miles away and forever emotionally unavailable to you.
What you needed to hear was something I have told you a thousand times before but they say love makes you blind.

And with this, I wondered if maybe I was also blind to the man I loved.
Maybe he had told me just as many times as I had told you.
Maybe he was just a ruthless and heartless as I thought I was being with you and yet here I was doing exactly what you were doing with me but with him.

I bet what he wanted to say was -- " I don't love you and you need to get that through your head."
But what I kept hearing was -- "I'm just not ready right now."
Brianna Nov 2017
I felt slightly uneasy and slightly confused.
I was disorientated and I couldn't figure out how to stand straight.
The empathy in the room was gone.
It was filled with soulless creatures I once called friends.

The devil danced on my back and I found myself watching all the people I once loved turning into people I wanted to destroy.
Little things set me off and my patience was thinner then paper.
I could see through the looking glass- my memories were just over the rabbit hole and beyond.

Instead, I slipped farther down and down into the core of the earth until the darkness took control.
I could feel the heat- the rising of anger and jealousy that kept me from being happy for them.
I hated them.
I wanted them out of my life.

But I kept them around to help fuel the fire that was keeping me alive.
I kept them there so when I went to bed lonely and sad - least I was warmed by bitterness.
I kept them so when the envious monster of jealously came pouring down my throat-- least I wouldn't be thirsty for something I knew I'd never have.

It doesn't take one thing to send you into the pessimistic oblivion you call life- it takes an avalanche.
It takes a hurricane of pain and sadness.
It takes a tornado of loneliness and pity.
It took a massive earthquake of people telling you over and over again things were going to be okay.

The devil is dancing on my shoulders again, and he's threatening me with the idea that if I just give up now- maybe I won't be alone forever.
That the ghost's and demons will keep me company.
That the memories will be enough to hold me over.

Maybe I'll let him win, maybe I won't.
Maybe someone will help me out of this mess I call life...
or Maybe they won't.
Brianna Nov 2017
It took me far too long to learn
you are far more complicated and spectacular
than magic will ever be.
Brianna Nov 2017
I think of him when its raining and the weather is gloomy and the clouds come in the surround me just like he did for a short, short while.

I imagine he is sitting somewhere in New York right now drinking some awful Gin and Tonic drink , writing something about some girl in a bar.

Or he's walking with his jacket high up over his neck day dreaming of his long lost Juliet or maybe he's scheming something more like Macbeth.

I like to think he thinks of me from time to time, the girl he sent poems to on Valentines Day, the girl he talked about loving the ocean more than life.

I know it's a bit narcissistic and a bit conceited but I like to think he know's I think of him from time to time.

When La Vie En Rose comes on and when I'm walking down the freshly rained on streets humming a tune.

When I am alone in my room contemplating how I couldn't make things work with good people or when I re read those poems I keep hidden away in my closet.

I imagine he's sitting in New York at some trendy, dive bar, making friends with the bartender telling stories about his life.

I imagine he's writing something about a girl he's currently in love with and the features that makes him swoon because one day he will give those poems to her for Valentines day as well.

I imagine that the day he finds the Juliet to his Romeo- he won't need to think of the girl whose too far away and in love with the ocean anymore.
Brianna Nov 2017
You were gold
You were green
You were the chameleon in my dreams.

You were bright
You were beautiful
You were ripping apart at the seams.

You were simple
You were smart
You were sneaking off into the dark.

You were confused
You were content
You were the ember to my spark.

You were there
Then you were gone
You were the dream I didn't want to wake from.
Brianna Nov 2017
Because what it comes down to is I am planning on drowning all my emotions.
You will need a submarine to find them at the bottom of the sea.
You will need the best diving equipment you can find to get to them.

It's going to get cold down there, the deeper you go the darker it gets.
There will be unseen monsters that will make you want to run and hide by how they look alone.
It's going to get scary down there, you will find it harder and harder to move; harder to breathe.

If you ever make it to the bottom of the darkness, which no one ever has, I bet it's going to be something else.
I bet it has a lot of mystery.
Maybe it will be the key to getting out of the darkness and into the light?
Maybe it will hold the answers to the unknown we are so fond of getting lost in.

Because what it came down too was I would rather drown in the ocean of my fears then to continue to be lost at sea alone.
Next page