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Bea Burnett Jun 2020
**** she a fatty,
Absolute circle chonker,
I’d pat that fat ***.
Chi ur so fat but I love it r/chonkers
Bea Burnett May 2020
Bathed in amber light,
You’re the sun in my sky,
A clammy hand I hold with great might,
As the years pass us by.

Pink cheeks, pink nights
Flora floods your room,
Drinking games and fights,
We wash down our gloom.

September solaced,
Strawberries and sugar,
Ice cream sandwiches and
Sushi roll dinners.

High on the cliffs and watching the sunset,
Laughing at nothing with you,
Watching people we’d forget,
Sleepy bus rides and tunes.

I hope you know,
I’d follow you through torrential rain at serpentine,
To a wonder-wall beach scene,
Through cold London weather,
To be there whenever.
To my best friend
Bea Burnett Jul 2020
To peel back your skin,
To sink my teeth deeply within,
Nothing between us,
Just flesh juice and core,
Treat me to what’s yours.
Forbidden fruit
Bea Burnett Jun 2020
My bed swallows an
Outline of me and I
Find it hard to breathe.
I wrote another haiku very similar about my depression but this version I love equally :) enjoy **
Bea Burnett Jun 2020
A circle so soft,
I wept tears of happiness,
Finally I’m home.
I’d never felt so loved
Bea Burnett Jul 2020
What if I had one more eye?
Noble with clarity-
A superior eye.

It would see tomorrow,
Not yet set in stone,
So set apart from the world I know-

Distinctive and discernible,
I envision a procession,
Of time trailed before me.

Enthroned on my brow,
The lone eye would crest,
Possessed with its profound unrest.

Clairvoyant, cunning, beaming eye-
Perched above organs of trivial nature,
Adorned, a crown that never cries,
It knows no regretful quakers.

How magnificent!
It would be,
To see so clearly,
To amend early,
To haven from horror,
To have an aura,
Of the triumphs yet to unfold,
If only an eye that bold,
Were part of me.
A collaborative poem with Godfrey Ndlovu
Bea Burnett Jul 2020
You are the flower,
I can not crest in my hair.
It is just not fair.
Bad religion
Bea Burnett May 2020
My finger tips pour into the indents of your ribcage as I hold you tight ear to chest,
Your heartbeat pounding against my eardrum like the sea spilling from a conch.
Lacing fingers plucking at your skin like a harp.
We share the same air in this tight pocket of intimacy.
Your lungs expand as mine contract, a silent exchange.
You fill my chest with thorns it hurts to breathe, choking on the heart making its way into my throat.

My bones ache with sweetness, decayed by the sugar you force down my oesophagus.
You're such sweet poison.
Bea Burnett Feb 2021
Your voice lingers,
In the crook of my neck,
Supple and perfumed.
Missing you
Bea Burnett Jun 2020
Do you see me?
When I look at you, and my hearts beating fast and my breaths caught in my throat
Do you hear me?
When I'm whispering softly into your sunny hair and against your smile
Do you feel me?
When I trace your skin with my fingertips wishing I could sink into you
Open to interpretation :)
Bea Burnett May 2020
Her body lights up,
every nerve and fibre of being shiver.
A caffeinated corpse.
Highs and lows intertwine like lovers lips,
They marry a blue flame, scorching under skin.
Unfulfilling desires creep under her temples.
Give in-
it serenades softly as she sinks into her seat.
Heels burrow into dirt in attempts to ground the soaring impulses.
She is possessed by this heat.

My flame flickers,
Put your hand in your knickers.
My inferno insists,
Slice your wrist.
My blaze bellows,
Substances mellow!

When the wick wears thin, down cools her skin.
Like the sea crashing into cove, she sinks into deep blue,
An icy numb hollows her chest,
Laced with convoluted breath.
Freighted by the weight of a heavy heart, she sighs as tears linger in her eye.

The cold is calling,
I feel myself falling.
I wrote this about what I experience during a manic episode and the adrenaline rush and impulses.
Bea Burnett Jan 2021
I move from room to room,
A phantom in the morning sun

I move to fill the vacant,
I move to fill the stillness,
I move to mirror my interior.

Restless in the comfort of silk,
Confined to the four walls of my brain,
I move to an irregular beat,
My feet dance across the negative space,
Fingers outstretched to nothingness

Maybe if I move,
Maybe if I manifest,
I’ll find tactility,
Maybe,
Bea Burnett Oct 2020
Waking up isn’t as fun when you’re not the first thing I see,
And somehow it feels wrong to drink iced coffee.

It’s so quiet here without you choking,
(Seriously though bobas for chewing luv)
I even miss it when you’re moping.

My bed feels so big without you sprawled out on it,
And my room doubles in size in your absence,
And I don’t like to smoke or sit,
Because you’re not here init.
Life’s boring without you in it
Bea Burnett Jun 2020
In my bed you see
swallowing mattress leaves
An outline of me
Based on Tracy Emins bed and my lows with depression
Bea Burnett May 2020
I can't shake the feeling,
The feeling of submission in my own body.
A creature has slipped through the cracks when at my weakest,
It's burrowed under my skin
Latched to my core.
You can find it:
Buried in my flesh, eating at me.
I feel it.
Swimming through my bloodstream, pumping poison.
I hear it.
Crawling in my thoughts.
Parasite.
Drinking my joy, spitting melancholy
my vision is dark, Shrouded in misery.
have you ever felt unsettled,
alone in the dark, but not quite.
Personifying depression as a parasitical creature.
Bea Burnett Jun 2020
Sinking low
To the ground
Is where
I’ll be found
Carpet prints
On my skin

Sinking low
Till I spin
In my chest
Soft and slow
A dull thud
Begins to grow

Sinking low
Here I’ll stay
Pinned by pressure
Here I’ll lay
And sweetly ache

Sinking low
Limbs heavy
Shallow breaths
Mind unsteady

Sinking low
Here I’ll lay
Breathing dust
Fade away
Low moods get the better of you
Bea Burnett Apr 2021
Some nights,
I travel my fingers through my hair and across my thighs,
Eyes closed, but my heads filled with visions of you.

Goosebumps like Braille, spelling your name, over and over and over,
And over,
And over

I mimic your movements,
Slow and steady,
But it’s such a shame that the space beneath my eyes,
Is so much wetter than the place between my thighs,
And it’s so silly how I choke and I cry,
On your name, again and again.
Bea Burnett May 2020
I am an empty vessel
Swaying in the water,
I am a still pool
Under summer heat,
I am a willow
That feels no breeze,
I am a sun
That never rises.
A meal never eaten, a song never sung, a rug never beaten, a bell never rung.
A railing never held, a stair never troden, a river not sailed, a sponge never sodden.
Not reaching full potential or amounting to something

— The End —