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Renée Brookes Apr 2017
She is a moth to flames,
fluttering so beautifully.
The night's light sparks her heart,
pumping doses of adrenaline.

Thump..
           Thump Thump
                              Thump


Pulsing.

Music booming, cocktail burning;
an Orange Twist in her hand.

Hey baby, can I get you another?
*******! You fine as hell!
Hey cutie, wanna dance?


Yes, she is a moth to flames,
always fluttering so blindly.
***** scalds her tongue and down her throat;
confused yet she twirls in the blaze.
The strands of her life unravel into
another unfamiliar home,
with another unfamiliar face.

The smell of white lies lined across the table,
a familiar friend to ignite her heart's beat.

 Thump..
           ThumpThumpThump


Pulsing.
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
Your arrival has been long awaited.
I am here,
                          F L O A T I N G
~~~~~   ~~~    ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~ ~   ~~~~~ ~  
atop my own delusions.
I daydream of my world colliding;
merging into a sky not so blue,
a sky pitch black,
with a moon illuminating red,
a wind that screams ****** ******,
and chokes my lungs in terror.

I want my skin to crawl along
abandoning my body.

Please. Will you take me now?

                                    With Love,
                                    Renée Brookes
Inspiration: Jack Jenkins
Renée Brookes Jul 2017
Here I sit, as always.
I am waiting for life to find me.

Upon this ledge:
uneven pigtails,
cold glassy skin,
shattered chest,
for a nest of spiders
covered by frilly cloth.
It makes me feel beautiful.
The patterned plaid,
sewn by my mistress.

She made me without love,
untaught to my sisters;
handled, mishandled, carelessly.

My shell sits here like always,
waiting for love to find me.

The spiders tickle; so many.
Dust cloaks me from interested eyes.
My stare is blank,
HORROR movie scary.
I'm sorry, I don't know another stare.

Please someone see me,
deep where something should be.
I will wait atop this ledge forever.
It will sting; sedative, seductive, relaxing your body down soft.

Bittersweet poison,
burning away what no longer serves you.

I invade.

I melt inside of you, mending ourselves.

What’s you is me, what is me is now you.

A melted identity.

Bittersweet, togetherness.

To know I am always there.
To feel unison, undivided.
To see truth and trust.

You taste me addictively; trickling acid down your tongue.

You hear my whispered sweet nothings, covering the sizzling of my work.

I am passion;

Pouring my heart and soul into everything and everyone.

I am the Scorpion’s sting.

Will you love me?
12.27.19 | This is an older version of myself. I loved so hard that it consumed my identity. Love is always a tricky thing, whether to give more to them or yourself.
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
Rejection
STEAMING HOT
Tears bubbling over
Cheeks
Buzzed bright
Flustered-
Confidence
Dangling from a string
Heart
Strewn
P a r t e d
Loneliness
Digging deep
Sadness
Beneath the eyes
Insides
Screaming LOUD
Fingers
U n touch e d
Fingernails
Bitten
Butterflies
Flown away
S U B M I S S I O N
She wails into a deep cry,
feeling the Spirit detach and say it’s goodbyes to the body of earth,
It has always known.
Separation beyond the skies into the unknown, she cries.

Weeping for the collection of souls,
lost for the cause.
Her heart made aware of their dimming flames,
to be preserved within her.
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
No.
"No" is to know to stop.
You don't know
So you don't stop.
As always,
I am down.
You're the top.
You won't stop.

*Go.

"Go" is to know to walk.
Don't pressure me.
Don't talk.
Get dressed and walk.

No..
You're the top.
I wrote this 11.2.13 in my book. I had folded the page over in half to hide the writing. Today, I opened it.
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
She lay,
innocently sleeping.
She gasps,
penetrated deeply.
She cries,
fearing death.
Crimson bed,
She lay.
Inspiration: Chiodos (Band)
He
He
paints my wings black,
in forbidden pleasures.

When his horns run along,
my fantasies are made real.

Piercing my skin,
he penetrates purity.
Inside of me melts down,
my body ignites,
cremated and relieved,
to the death of an angel.
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
She goes on the prowl
beneath night's creamy crescent
longing affection .
Haiku #4 / Inspiration: My cat .
Renée Brookes Mar 2017
It boils in his chest, burns his throat,
Blurs his sight; there's no way to cope.
I've said goodbye many times,
Each time the fire clouds his eyes.

I'm never afraid, my love is to blame.
It keeps me grounded, not running away.

"He doesn't mean it." I tell myself,
My family, and friends; not asking for help.

In the end he says, "Sorry," at least in my mind.
I imagine it so, each time it rewinds.

I am forever silent in my time of strife,
My skin growing cold, pale, and white.
𝒱𝑒𝓃𝓊𝓈 𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒.
𝑅𝑒𝓉𝓇𝑜𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒹𝑒: 𝒹𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝑔𝑜,
𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎,
𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒾𝓇𝒸𝓁𝑒
𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝒶𝓇𝓂𝒾𝒸 𝒸𝓎𝒸𝓁𝑒,
𝓌𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒.
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
Cold rain makes me sick,
snot trickles out from my nose.
Oh please, go away.
My first haiku! / Inspiration: Cloudphaser
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
Scene #1 / Take #10 / ACTION!

Dont go, she says;
on the floor now crying,
simply implying she can be loved.
C U T!
He made a mistake. All it takes is a re-cast.
Cast her away,
  so  f a r    a w a y  .

Her lines are easy;
always pleading, cold, and bleeding-
never leading off script.

Scene #1 / Take #12 / BREAK

It'll all blow over;
icy wind over shoulders-
blowing over.
Rehearse. Converse.
Get Ready for another try.

Scene #1 / Take #15 / STOP

Stop acting, stop reading, and start seeing-
This love isn't enough,
far too tough on the heart;
real stress, real scars, real hurt.
Dont go! she blurts-
Silence, only hurt.

    He's so f a r   a w a y . .
Inspiration: My first love .
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
Your shadow has fallen over this place
like the plague.
The chandeliers cower at your advent,
collapsing atop this innocent crowd;
yet the violins still play.

Your presence ensues consternation.
Who's next?
Who's time is it?

It is I from which your invitation has been sent.
I am elated you could make it.

My mask is you,
with rose patterns aligned,
a gown to match,
with a bone breaking corset.
From my painted lips,

Will you save me this dance?

Face to face, chest to chest,
force each breath from my lungs.
Twirling now to my sounds,
I follow your lead.
Dip me back into your arms, my sweet,
finally reaping me with a kiss.

*You are my only love.
This is an alt. to my letter "Dear Reaper," . I wanted to write in two perspectives. In both, there is a want to die, but the first focused on the environmental aspect of death. This one, on the Reaper himself.
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
Leopard heels tap on the floor board.
Black lace stockings designed to thrill.
Those thighs send chills up mine,
curving inside.
Divine is her dress;
short to impress.
It flows up with each stride.

My eyes deny what is underneath;
moving past her hips, up to cleavage-
Two full cups of sugar I want to borrow.

Delightful is her bra;
a matching black peeks through red.
She looks so warm;
Lip gloss worn, gleaming in the light.
Quite luscious on her lips-

Her fingertips caress them,
feeling for a tongue.
Her eyes, an invitation for fun.
Caramel pupils dare me,
I am ready.
A flower’s beauty,
may blossom remarkably,
in harsh conditions;
plugging the funnel: nurture,
in light of one’s true nature.
A radiant smile.
She carries through the rainfall.
The best medicine.
3.6.20
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
Does not mean I am a *****.
Yes, ******* is fun. Bianca tells me so,
Greg too, and his crew.
You think so,
we all do, but I want more.

It all starts the same, with an ordinary encounter.
She starts with her name and where she's come from.
I want to hear about her life;
her home/ her heart.
You know that saying.

I can feel curiosity filling me,
The ropes of our bond tighten with each word.
I ask him questions, just to hear him speak.
I stare deep; behind his eyes, undivided.

His company gives me purpose,
Gives me ecstasy.

I can see her everything.
The walls she's built, tore down to rebuild;
The preciousness of what she protects.

We are nothing but human.
We need love, companionship, friendship.
That does not make me a *****.
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
Tonight he came to me, singing my name.
He, masked in mystery, hid away in shame.
From the shadows he reached for me,
tucked deep in my bed.
His longing eased inside of me,
his voice invading my head.
A streaming melody of loveless love,
an eternity with no one;
for fear of his face, a hideous disgrace.
His echoes yearn for someone.
Through the dark, I see you clear stranger of the night.
Without fear, we harmonize blissfully in twilight.
Inspiration:  Obvious..  lol .
I can see the world inside your eyes,
a planetarium for display.

I can see the night of your waters,
buried beneath the ocean’s blue.
I can feel the temperature drop deep,
into the dark of the depths,
and the creatures that hide there.

I appreciate your mixture of blues.
From the sea onto the skies,
A light paint splashed heavy,
like the flow of your tides.

Your clouds are steamy dreams,
accents to highlight your moon.

I am in awe of your stars,
uplifting flames of motivation;
unmatched to the lion of your sun.

Clearest of all, I see your gift,
your world of authentic love and truth.
For Chris S. [Cancer Sign] 12.8.19
Renée Brookes May 2017
Breathe

I reach for the blur above me,
grasping for my own circles of life.
They, in return, float to abandon me.

Keep Breathing

I'm thinking,
didn't you all see me;
witness me throw my shoes to the side,
pull my pants down to my ankles,
then off around my feet?
Didn’t you watch me
lift my shirt above my head,
and dive in head first?

Maybe you didn't hear the splash,
the hard deafening sound of my body
crashing into waves.
Maybe you didn't feel the splatter of the ocean across your faces as you onlooked;
Or just maybe you walked away at the perfect moment to be able to say,

I had no idea she'd gone and done such a thing.
My baby would never do something like that.

Just maybe,
*It's time to learn how to swim.
You might be thinking, "you should hold your breath under water not breathe." I mean keep living and not give up even though sometimes you'll be alone.
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
Hey, wakey wakey!
You have a job to tend to,
Didn't you hear me?
Haiku #3 / Inspiration: My lazy *** .
My personified shadow,
I call her Renée.
She experienced the malevolency
bestowed upon me
and released through writing poetry.
My nightly tears on the page,
bled crimson,
in unison, she and me.

She, my personal protector;
taught me the freedom,
within expression,
feeling fearless among oppression,
my pages now read dry.
With anxiety and pain held at bay,
I am to be thankful,
to the personified shadow,
I call Renée.
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
Strip me of my rights, my Liberty,
I do not wish to be free.
I need direction, a director, a commander.
I will follow you blind.

Deprive me of my senses,
We both only want to feel.

I want to feel helpless,
Restrained to my knees.
I need to feel pain,
Whipped until crimson.
I hope to feel exploited,
Pushed into ******.
I feel satisfaction,
Permission to hear yours?
Sir.

You are my commander.

I am trained well into compliance.
You reward me in throbs,
Deep pulses from inside.

The motions are familiar but u are entirely different.
You can surprise me, excite me, command me; a formidable leader.
You give me everything,
all that I can feel.
All that I need to feel, alive.
Frozen cold as ice,
Her eyes still on intention.
Self meditation,
Melts dreams into fruition.
Calm, the breeze of higher self.
6.14.20
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
The mirrors fog white;
her skin immersed in droplets,
wills me to *succumb.
Haiku #2 / Inspiration: shower water .
Dark is to light, as black to white.
When we write, from what place?

I wrote,
dwelling there,
amongst the shadows,
without face; leeching for love,
my cup empty,
heart scattered into pieces.

I write,
divinely guided;
exploring unclimbed mountains,
where weakness and courage elope,
advancing towards freedom,
My cup fills,
healing below the glimmers of hope.

I accept,
my world of black,
as it mends into white,
for I know, what is in the dark,
is to rise to meet light.
Renée Brookes Mar 2017
3.05.17  /  8:00AM

No more. No more. Please, I'll stop.
Please.. Please.


He says to me after.

After, dragging me
from the living room floor into the bedroom.
After, lifting me up
throwing me down to the bed.
After, pinning me down,
my arms above my head.
After, spitting threats into my face.
After, muffling my cries,
slapping me until I stop.
After, I don't stop.
After, I cry harder into hyperventilation.
After, my breaths become shorter and shorter
making me light headed.
After, he realizes what that means.

After, he begins crying too.

No more, please. I'll do whatever you want.
Please.. don't leave, *
stay
.
I am your fugitive,
Running to escape my fate.
Underneath the moonlight, I feel safe;
Though, I am still the fool.
My innocence wishes to survive your arrows,  centaur; you,
a master of archery.
You haven’t missed one shot on me,
Aimed at my heart, I do not fall.
Aimed at my heart, I do not falter.
Underneath the stars, I feel safe.

I am your fugitive,
Running to escape my mistakes.
Underneath the skies, I have misplaced my loyalty; as such does, the fool.
My heart wishes to love one,
banded with honesty.
That is not you, master of archery.
Aimed at my head, I still think.
Aimed at my head, I still wander;
Away to where I may feel safe.
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
The color of royalty claims her,
a purple pool of shadow.
She is majestic,
her wings spread to be the size of the earth.
Her unique display captivates
as she sits and as in motion.
She is limitless.

I think I can love her.

The color of the skies cloak her,
the stars her favorite.
She is free,
unbound to soar every inch of this world.
Her eyes pierce into my very existence
seeing all that I am.
She is timeless.

I AM in love with her..

I want her all to myself.
I NEED her all to myself,
to love the only way I know how.
I cut off her wings and throw her in a cage.

Now she can be, MY Queen.
I wrote this in the perspective of my boyfriend.
𝑳𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔,
𝑯𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝑰 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒆?
𝑨𝒎 𝑰 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒈
𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆, 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒎 𝑰
𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑱𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔?
Renée Brookes Mar 2017
I purchased a ticket to your matinée.
You sold me on the storyline.
Boy likes girl,
girl likes boy,
live happily ever after.

Everyone loves a happy ending.

Here I am, front row and center,
popcorn in hand;
clueless as to why I am alone.
In this dark, cold, empty place,
I am alone.

Nonetheless, here for you.

The curtain rises, it's your time to shine.
It's just like you said,
boy likes girl,
girl likes boy.


There are no two hearts more in unison,
though it seems something unsettles his mind.

Thoughts of her lying,
Thoughts of her cheating,
Thoughts of her leaving,
bestow tragedy.

I am waiting.
Where is the happy ending?
I am here waiting to watch you love,
to watch you hold,
to watch you unite.

I throw popcorn at your deceit,
at your paranoia,
at your hysteria.

You ripped me off.
I now know why I am alone.
In this dark, cold, empty place,
I am alone.
Renée Brookes Mar 2017
He has two heads.
I don't count the one below,
as some would call it;
I mean two on his shoulders.
One is for lure.
His mouth breathes love and fantasies,
caressing with words of nurture.
The other is to ****.
That mouth breathes toxins, poisons,
rotting you slow from the inside out,
still leaving you to feel loved.
This is just how he is,
wandering around with two heads;
And the body of a snake.
Let me tell you
Something about me,
I view everything as energy.
***, gender, ethnicity,
I cannot see.

That is simply me.
I am of the past,
the present, and the future;
reminiscent reflections of incomplete potential.
Never satisfied with the present,
I seek a brighter image.
A confident black woman fulfilled.
Renée Brookes Feb 2017
You can see it all from my window;
open wide, no blinds,
all at my window.

The show has begun.
Every night I headline,
dress then rewind; so fine.

Moonlight on skin;
sin invites our minds.
You strive to remain in hide,
outside my window.

Lust drives me and you.
Slow, ribbons flow down to my shoes;
heels, a seductive red.

On my bed, I relax.
Be my witness to ******,
from outside my window.
Endless abundance,
you are, a hidden treasure;
infused in magicks,
synchronized with Mother Moon,
divine feminine of life.

— The End —