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 Dec 2014 arubybluebird
Jay
I never thought I could fall in love with somebody
the way I have with her.
I thought I knew what love was, but I never really did.
If you would have asked me what I thought love was three months ago, I would have said that it was hurting all the time.
That it was something that you burned up in-
Something that you find in the romance of hazy coffee houses and broken cigarettes.
Something that was unobtainable.
Now, she's made me realize, love is acceptance.
Love is making somebody love who they are.
Love is staying up until 5 o' clock in the morning just to talk.
Love is waiting.
Love is awkward.
Love is worrying about somebody, even when you know they'll be alright.
Love is a shared song that you both can cry to.
Love is a comfortable silence.
Love is wanting to be everything for somebody.
Love is a kiss that can't be felt.
Love is shirts on the floor and butterflies in our stomachs.
Love is her.
I'm still on hiatus, but I thought I should try writing again.
Not, a good time to decide that, because it's still not what it was.
Maybe I'll come back again later.
 Dec 2014 arubybluebird
brooke
i said my face is so round

and a little voice murmured
but so is the sun and moon
the flowers that face the sky,
all the planets that sit heavily
on starry thrones, have you
seen the earth? a l l   f  u  l  l
things inherit the land,  you
could plant gardens on your
jawline and hide n a t i o n s
under your cheekbones,why,
it wouldn't be presumptuous
to say the wounded could be
cradled in the dip of your chin


all good things are *
round
(c) Brooke Otto 2014

loving myself is hard.
i
keep
thinking
you   should
be    taking    up
spaceinmyapartment,
claiming a side of the bed
and the couch, getting    up   in
the middle of the night for a glass
of water. becauseyoumake sense here
in the  soft  afternoon  light  of my living
room, in my  hands, in  my  heart. it's like i
had   been  running  for   so  long  that  i  had
forgotten how to   stop   my legs until you came
along, until you reminded me of what it was like
to           pull               air               through           the
e  n  t  i  r  e  t  y          o  f          m  y        l  u  n  g  s
and not just into the first  two  inches, until you
told me that you think i can be doing so much
more- that i deserve  a  life  bigger  than the
city limits of this missouri town. you are
endless possibilities and unfathomable
potential,   the  slow  simmer    to my
constant  movement.  please don't
stop loving my weak arms and
the heart i have    patched to
my   sleeve.  please    don't
forgettocomebacktome.
you might have to turn your phone for this
 Nov 2014 arubybluebird
oni
if i drowned
in my own tears,
would it be
suicide
because they were mine,
or
******
because you caused them?
"I love you so much"
is scrawled in the dust of my TV.
Every time I roll over and see the
motivation, my lip curves-
I feel you in what was a tent, now a house,
constructed in me.

A full house to clean,
I can't even keep the dust off my TV.
Your lips press onto me
and I swear I can feel every
glass window shatter in rooms of my knees.

I'd pick up the glass with my bare hands
just so you
could see the daylight through the pieces
in the morning.

Sometimes I let the storms tear down my walls,
allow visitors to leave the stove on a little too long-
and I push myself to the weeping willow to vanish.
You notice the lights are off and I am thrown in the wagon,
pulled back home to safety.
I don't mean to be so selfish,
thinking that I matter out there when graced
under the vines of Mother nature.

You are my comfort zone,
my bed on a sick day,
and I love you more than any of these words.
I can hear your back crack,
in the dark.
Removing your underwear
with chewed fingernails:
You softly ask
if we can share scar tissue
and if I'll stay
despite every issue.

You try to kick the covers
off of our bed,
and ask if we can share the thoughts
buzzing inside of your head.

When insomnia erases your eyes
and disease steals your brain:
You inhale ways to die,
because you still dream
but it's not the same.

I can hear the static in your skull.
I know why you keep
the kitchen knives dull.
You pull on my fingers
so I don't forget you.
You cry on the pillows
and hope I like romance too.

I kiss your temple
during each thunderstorm.
I read you books in bed,
because your eyes are worn.
I put my ear to your chest
because I want you to see
that the air you breathe
means everything to me.
 Oct 2014 arubybluebird
Sammie
If you meant it
when you said
that I make you feel
warm inside,
then I’d say you leave me
smoldering.

An ode to destruction,
striking perfidiousness.
The very thought of you
cripples me beyond belief.
Disdain for you
dangles from my neck
and burns retched holes in my skin.

If you meant it
when you said
that I make you feel
warm inside,
then I’d say you leave me
lustrous.

Any attempt to describe you
would render me loquacious.
You are the feeling of
kicking high on a swing,
and a coffee break on an Autumn afternoon.
I feel rejuvenated and renewed
each time I breathe your name.

You could crush
or compose me
in one moment’s time.
You could curse
or control me,
love or
**** me.
Just never let
me go.
I let the things you say effect me far too deeply.
 Oct 2014 arubybluebird
AJ
1.) Out of the one thousand and ninety-nine days that you were mine, I only regret three of them. The day Brian ***** me on that pool table, the day your dad moved back to Italy and I didn't come over, and the day you put yourself into this hellish suicide coma.
2.) If truth or dare turned two little girls into temporary lesbians, than so be it. Honestly, nothing ever tasted sweeter than you on that night on the bathroom counter at Tim's.
3.) I will grow up to be incredibly cultured all because of you. I learned to look outside the social norm after our late night dates on the roof. Getting high in your lap as you read me poetry, and played me Damien Rice's The Professor & La Fille Danse on repeat was more than enough.
4.) I always thought you were tradition and I was your French Revolution. But now I'm seeing that I was the revolution, and you were the revelation.
5.) You could not sing a single god ****** note. But the only thing I want to hear is your squeaky voice serenading me with our song right now. I promise I won't be annoyed, just finish chorus with me one more  ******* time.
6.) I would have helped you get to your father. I would have helped you. I would have set your mother on fire to avoid this.
7.) I threw up when I got sams phone call about what you had done. And then I screamed at him for an hour.
8.) I won't ask how could you do this to me, because right now I want to do it to you.
9.) Thank you for punching Brian, and I'm sorry you got fired, and I'm sorry your dad left, and I'm sorry your mom hit you, and I'm sorry that I could not kidnap you and bring you to our own private island in the middle of no wear.
10.) You showed me what star you'd become when you died, and told me that if I wished on it you would do your best. I know absolutely nothing about astrology and constellations. But your star is the one thing I find faster than the moon in every night sky.
11.) The last sip of every bottle of ***** I will ever have, will always taste like the last kiss we shared.
I don't know.
I just found out that you died on Sunday.
You took the right combination
Of pills this time.
And that feels wrong,
Because your favorite day was Tuesday.
And your mother didn't even allow
An Obituary in the paper.
And sam and I will never forgive ourselves,
For destroying all you photos.
I have none left to remember you by.

But I found your star in the sky tonight.
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