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How could you expect me
To dive into your heart
When the water is shallow
And filled with the reefs of your pride

Often…..
I got hurt
With bruises and cuts
When your rough wave
Hit me hard

Wish you could see
That I’m tired
Of fighting the tide
Wish you realize
That I’m not floating
Nor I try to swim

Because….
I’m waiting for you
To save me
From drowning
But seems like
You just wanna let go
And watch me ….. sink

-Jess
As I lie here
With eyes closed softly
I think deeply of you
And I inhale stars
The scent of twinkling light
So fresh and alive
Sparkling gentle inside me
And I want to write this feeling
So tentatively
As it must be
Like writing words on bubbles
Delicate and precious
Begging them not to disappear
Like dreams in the morning

                                        By Phil Roberts
This may well be my last poem here.
I don't want to talk about what school I go to, or what program I'm in. I don't want to talk about how I work in retail part-time or how busy I am. I don't want to discuss where I'd go on vacation, or what I hope for in the future. These conversations are just spoken in order to have a response, I say my piece and ask "what about you?". You'll take a deep breath and start on where you started in school and how you're stuck right now in this dead-end job but you swear- you swear that you'll know when the time in right to make a move in the right direction. You'll say you want to go to Thailand, and Dubai because of the cultural experience, but you'll never actually make it there. I don't want to talk about my family, what my mother or father does for a living. I don't need your compliments on how highly I was brought up, how perfect my life must've been. I don’t want to sit there and agree with you, and smile and giggle and say “I know, that’s why I’m different.” The funny part is you’ll think I am. When I get to know you, you’ll show me vulnerability- you’ll launch into some story of how even though you had friends and everything was completely fine you never fit in. On how your grandparent’s death affected you, or your parents divorce or moving cities. And you’ll look into my eyes, wanting sympathy, compassion and understanding. Because, you know its there, I give it freely to anyone who needs it. But after its over and through, once you’ve told me… that’s it. That’s who you are, that’s all there is to you and when I ask you what you’re thinking all you’ll say is nothing. Nothing. Even when you’re thinking something. I don’t want that anymore. I want someone to converse with me about what’s beyond our limited human level of understanding, I want someone to be honest about who they are and what they feel and I want someone to look at themselves as a work in progress instead of a completed artwork with chips in the paint, for once. I want someone who will look out onto the ocean and sky and see what I see. Someone who will explore what could happen if we simply, suddenly just lost gravity. If we all fell into the sky, if we all just suddenly choked in space and died. I want to explore if we’d see one another on the other side. I want to lay in a field and listen to the wind in the grass. I want to feel the earth beneath my back and smell the warm fragrance from nearby lilacs. I want to be purely myself and not harbour any judgement, I want to love freely and openly without any punishment. I just want some sapience and a soul connection. Maybe I’m just asking for too much, or the universe just wants to teach me a lesson.
just a rant
you're a haze of ninety-nine cents dreams,
naivety bottled in your distressed jeans
and your ******-inspired bambi teardrop eyes;
and i'm the devil behind why you've cried

your mouth chokes with fury and rage
'so why are you still here?' i ask again
but secretly, i know you and your obsession
-the glory tales of getting heartbroken

you know i'm pure poison flowing in your veins,
a disaster functioning on self-hatred and novacane,
but you're wild violet and champagne in a sweet kiss,
desperate to be inundated into my abyss.
idk what is this
"There are two types of people in the world," he laughed after a heavy swig. I laughed and anticipated a mindless reply.
"Those who are pens, and those who are pencils".
An eye-roll dismissed the statement but a curious brow stayed in place.
"All I'm saying is that some folks have a certainty about them. Everything glides off their tongue like cursive dipped in black ink".
I thought of where I might fall on the spectrum.
 Feb 2018 Briar Ownby-Connolly
z
when people are in love
they often say
they simply fell
tripped over their own two feet
face forward
and into the arms of their beloved

i did more than simply fall
onto the ground of your love

you, for me
were an ocean
and i dived
headfirst
roughly
harshly
almost painfully
into the waters of “you”

i knew i could not swim
but i did so anyway
i was drowning
entangled in you
surrounded by this being of “you”
engulfed in this feeling of “you”

and i did not know what came over me
but i let myself drown
i did not try to swim back up
because if i went back to land,
releasing myself from your grasp
that would mean losing the feeling of “you”

and after
submerging into the depth
the love
the passion
of “you”

how could i ever leave?
i am so alone
in this lustful state of mind
thinking just of you.
when the shiver stopped
you were never here at all
there i lay, breathing.
he touched me like i was fragile piece of glass
held me in his arms as if i would shatter if he let go
kissed my forehead so gentle it was as if his lips weren't even there
wiped away my tears like they were made of vapor
and spoke like he was telling me the most important secret in the whole world
"I love you"
I love my fiance.
 Feb 2018 Briar Ownby-Connolly
mk
the star of my sky
the moon of my night
with my last breath
for you, i will fight.
i love you on more days than one.
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