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 Dec 2018 Brooke S
girl diffused
i only learned value
after i picked
through my wreckage
he left me as a broken house
derelict splintered wood
peeling paint
broken shutters
i fed myself softer things
rebuilt myself on a river
and married the earth
It takes a while but eventually the pain recedes. It becomes acrid first, then bitter, then bittersweet, and finally it will taste like nothing at all.
 Dec 2018 Brooke S
She Writes
Your lips on my neck
And your hand between my thighs
Is better than any antidepressant
A dr could prescribe
 Nov 2018 Brooke S
BMG
To you, I am.
 Nov 2018 Brooke S
BMG
Therapy
Is that all I am?
All I will ever be?
His therapy
Never the one he’ll love
Always the one he’ll run to
Will you ever notice the storm behind my eyes?

The best kind of therapy
Used up but useless
His therapy
Never the one he’ll miss at night
Always the one he’ll “need” come sun light
Will you ever feel this heaviness in my soul?

Destined to never be heard
But always be listening
Everyone’s therapy
Fixing all your problems
Forever your sounding board
Morning, noon or night
You could never be an inconvenience right?

You’ll take all my advice
Soak up every word
Yet you’d drop my heart on to the ground
Walk away
Wipe your hands of the blood
on your ***** jeans
All you’ll ever want from me
Is free therapy
 Nov 2018 Brooke S
Simpleton
Love didn't end wars
It started them
 Oct 2018 Brooke S
Meera
Poetry
 Oct 2018 Brooke S
Meera
Some poets write with pen
And others with pain
Just a random thought...
 Jun 2018 Brooke S
tc
of one thing
i am sure
and that is
that i am
unsure of
myself
and it’s funny
how i can’t
sleep but my
chest closes its
eyes and hums
with a heartbeat
that is unsure of
itself, too.
i try to morph
into a body
i don’t feel
belongs to me
just so i can
fit somewhere
fit in somewhere
and i tell so
many stories
about the
universe, it
forever feels
like i am trying
to remain lost.
i am unsure
of myself;
connecting the
moles on my
skin as if they
will spell out
something bigger
so i can feel
like i matter,
at least for
a little while.
i sleep beside
myself, stare at
a reflection
so unfamiliar
i couldn’t even
identify it in
a crowd of
strangers, but
i am trying.
and one day
i’m sure i’ll
be sure
of myself but
until then,
i’ll morph into
someone i can
be proud of
and hope that
the universe
sends me back
to myself.
 Jun 2018 Brooke S
She Writes
I’d rather write than speak
My pen is always responsive
My ink doesn’t judge my mistakes
My paper doesn’t argue
My lines never cross me
My sentences never disappoint
And my words will never leave me
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