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berry Sep 2013
you're under my skin
like a body in a grave
buried way down deep
berry Sep 2013
pounding temples
angry god(s)
boom like thunder
in my skull
sleep evades me
it's you that saves me
but dear,
your absence is hell

-m.f.
berry Sep 2013
my mother taught me the alphabet and 2 + 2
(but everything always adds up to you)

my father taught me to be patient & kind
(but it's you that brings balance to my mind)

my brothers taught me how to be tough
(but you still tell me daily that i am enough)

my high school government teacher taught me to be bold
(but in you i find my courage, given your hand to hold)

the birds in the sky taught me how to sing
(but it's you who hides me under your wing)

all of my heartbreaks taught me how to write
(but you gave new meaning to sleepless nights)

- m.f.
berry Sep 2013
never strong in swimming
but keeping my head above
these waves for you, dear
berry Sep 2013
i do not think that this is a poem -
but i decided some things about you & i.

if people are colors, you are blue and i am green.

if people are seasons, you are spring and i am autumn.

if people are flowers, you are a forget-me-not and i am a poppy.

if people are drinks, you are hot chocolate and i am pink lemonade.

if people are candy, you are an everlasting gobstopper and i am a hershey's kiss.

if people are clouds, you are a cumulonimbus and i am a cirrostratus.

if people are times of day, you are dusk and i am dawn.

if people are trees, you are a weeping willow and i am a dogwood.

if people are languages you are french and i am portuguese.
berry Sep 2013
i am a terrible liar

when i was six, and my father
asked me if i had brushed my teeth,
i hadn't, but to avoid a scolding,
i told him yes

the popcorn kernel stuck in my teeth
and my blushing cheeks gave me away,
he marched me to the bathroom

when i was ten, my mother asked me
if i'd snuck a cookie before dinner,
i hid my chocolate-covered fingers behind my back
and told her no

i forgot about the evidence right below my lip,
she laughed and shook her head,
i was given extra broccoli

when i was fourteen and my crush rejected me,
he asked me if our friendship would be awkward,
i didn't want him to feel guilty,
so i told him no

we stopped talking altogether
and for a little while it kind of hurt,
but he wasn't very cute anyway

when i was eighteen and the boy i loved broke my heart
then proceeded to ask me if i was okay,
i choked back my tears,
and i told him yes

he knew it wasn't true,
but he was all out of "i'm sorry's"
and two-hundred miles was too far for him

when you first told me that you loved me
you asked if i could ever think of you as more than a friend,
i was flooded with fear and memories of hurt,
and my first impulse was to tell you no

but then i remembered
i am a terrible liar

m.f.
berry Sep 2013
when i was a little girl -
i believed my daddy was the smartest man in the world.
he knew everything. everything.
if i had a question, daddy had an answer, and a good one.
always.

his degree was in biology,
but he preached from a pulpit every sunday.
his friends, colleagues, congregation, all knew him as Pastor Brett.
to me he was just daddy -
and he was the smartest man in the world.

on days when i couldn't understand my own head,
(which were, and still are, very often)
and got frustrated with myself to the point of tears,
he would kiss my cheeks and promise me i wasn't stupid.
and coming from him, the smartest man i knew, that meant the world.

as years passed and i grew, my naivety remained with me,
and so i thought i was too smart to fall into life's traps.
i fell. i fell fast. i fell hard. i fell often. and i shattered.
each time, the smartest man in the world picked up my pieces
and reassured me i was still welcome in his home.

he never loved me any less, much to my bewilderment.
however, as my faults increased in frequency and severity,
he picked up my pieces now with weathered hands and weary eyes.
his smile was weaker, and a deep pain stirred in the chocolate irises behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

my deception morphed into vines that constricted and twisted and choked out the truth.
he poured out his love onto an underserving me, and said that God would still forgive.
but i, daughter of the smartest man in the world, am a fool.
and by my own two hands, i continued to sink.

he leaves me to pick up my own pieces now, not loving me any less,
but too weak, too exasperated, too heartbroken to do it himself as he always had.
he is done. he loves me and i know it. he shows it. but he is done.
my tears bore him. my half-true stories and pitiful excuses move in one ear and out the other.
he is stone-faced, no longer shocked by my confessions so i leave them unspoken.

his kisses, sear my flesh. his love burns because i know i don't deserve a single shred of it.
i wish he hated me. i wish we could fight. that would make things easier, right?
but he won't. he just won't. he loves me so much and i can't stand it.
but he is done. i broke my father, and his heart, for nothing.

he asked me why i do the things i do,
why i don't just stop it. why i keep on hurting him and my mother.
i didn't have an answer. all i had to offer the smartest man in the world,
was a dry mouth and empty hands.

m.f.
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