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 Jun 2017 Breawna B
Sapien
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, not thinking anything and just staring. A few minutes later she took a deep breath and opened the drawer. Took out a box and observed it for quite long.
She took out a blood red lip colour and began to apply. While applying the lipstick she remembered how exciting was dressing up was to her when she was a child. This red colour was much brighter to her than now. These bangles were much more fascinating than what they are now. She recalled the days when she uses to stole her mother's makeup kit, She recalled how her mother used to beat up as if she had committed any sin.
Her eyes were much sparkling when she was a little kid, Now even the coal pencil cannot bring that shine again.
She stood up without any emotions, She was as blank as a white paper.
The beautiful red lehnga with golden embroidery suits her perfectly, Her long black hair and wide eyes compliment her outfit completely. Oh, how beautiful she looks but something is missing. There is no happiness on the face of the girl who always loved to look pretty. She was living the nightmare of every girl of her age. How ominous her life is she wondered, with this thought tear rolled down.
Took a deep breath and controlled her emotions. Wore her dupatta and came to a room, Decorated with roses and candles and bloom.
It was perfectly decorated like every girl fascinates. But for her, this was nothing of value here it is reflected by her face. This room was decorated for her like this every day, someone waits for her in the room every day.
Nights haunt her, the moon scares her. Men frighten her. Now she knows why her mother used to stop her whenever she said she wants to be like her, Now she knows why her mother cried whenever she hugged her.  
These bangles are fetters to her, All the colours are not so happy for her. Her innocence is lost somewhere, she doesn't even remember when she laughed last without faking.
She is like a body without the soul. She is like a night with no moon.
 Jun 2017 Breawna B
mk
1.
i fear you more than i love you

2.
sometimes i wish you were dead so that i wouldn't have to leave you but i wouldn't have to live with you either

3.
i went to dinner with a friend you forbade me to see. when i hugged him, his body was neither as soft nor as warm as yours and i didn't like it very much. there was no ****** tension; only liberation, and deep, deep guilt.

4.
sometimes i lie to you about my phone being out of battery. it's on airplane mode because i need some time to myself and you don't like it when i ask for "alone time". why do you need alone time, you always ask. i don't know how to explain it to you anymore.

5.
i wish i had never met you because i am in a cycle of evil and fear and guilt and pain and sure some days you make me feel loved but mostly you just drive me insane. insane, not in the oh my gosh i'm so in love way but in the i don't know what's real anymore way.

6.
i feel weak because i am not strong enough to leave you.

7.
i feel strong because through it all, i have survived.
don't read into this- it's just a poem.
 Jun 2017 Breawna B
brooke
deluge.
 Jun 2017 Breawna B
brooke
it's strange
where I stored away
all my loyalties, you
think you can bring
someone back with
courage or bravery
but you're only being
a child, really,

i threaded them
through each vertebrae
and stained every moment
with ink, every truck-ride
soaked in an alan jackson
song

I don't want to haunt you,
but at night if you are alone
or with a dead arm beneath
a pretty girl, deeply introspective
with the moon on your face
and you begin to tear into
yourself as if something
is lost or fading

all you'll find is a rung
of brass keys where I
told myself i could
where no other woman
has been, and she certainly
won't,

if storms are named after people
and every place is a concentrate
of you and me then
i have saturated the walls
in your peace and strength
with all my keys and loyalties
hung in the places you go
to find yourself.
(c) Brooke Otto 2017
 Jun 2017 Breawna B
Sandoval
Broken
 Jun 2017 Breawna B
Sandoval
I was not born a

poet.

I was broken into

one.


*Sandoval
 Jun 2017 Breawna B
aryanalynae
Nervous.
Frightened.
Caring.
Space.

Words.
Smiles.
Memories.
Hea­rts race.

Feelings
Break
Hands
Shake

One
Gives
One
Takes

One
Destr­oys
One
Creates

One
On time
One
Always late

Trust
Begins
But trust
Always fades
 Jun 2017 Breawna B
wren cole
you are just a child
and the world is not out to hurt you
darling, darling, please
slow down and take the love in
you are young and beautiful and reckless
no where near wise
far from invincible
you are running, flying away into the sound of your own voice
telling you you are so close to the sun and
you can't wait to burn bright and beautiful and turn to ash
but the sun feels much nicer from the ground, oh, the sun feels much nicer from the ground
we are not made to live like bullets
you have blood on your casing and much of it is your own
you tell me you know best as you hold your gun to your temple and yell
fire away, fire away
 Jun 2017 Breawna B
lore
monsters
 Jun 2017 Breawna B
lore
always afraid
she kept looking for
monsters
under her bed
without realizing
the real monster
was sleeping
next to
her
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