To give in or give up,
That is the question.
And as I sit here and ponder my life’s reality
The lifestyle that’s led up to this point
I’ve realized there is no simple answer
There’s no reason as to why you find yourself struggling to find the meaning in your life
Or as to why you can’t fall asleep soundly to the silence of your own breath;
And it’s only when I’m awake and listening can I see the truth before me,
Your sound asleep with contentment in the arms of my sheets and I, well I, I am here dealing with the mess you have left me behind to deal with.
You’re hurting too,
Your kisses cannot coat the pain this time
Nor will mine
For my eyes are dry and my heart is numb
But I’m foreshadowing your next move
A dim light and a snow fall
A cold walk and a liquor coaxed dream
Only now you see me.
So when I tremble in dismay with your hand on my cheek; do not be weary,
For I have not but pondered this outcome
To give in or to give up?
That is the question.
And it is now that I realize there might be more than yet two answers
My eyes are open, my ears are sound, and my heart is still
This time 4 months hasn’t changed me;
But I still hope you will

~Bre Womble
Sunday March 31 2019

What if every little thought
That lives inside your head
Instead of hiding away in there
Was spoken out, was said?

Would you be embarrassed?
Would you hate your mouth?
Would you rather be mute
Than let the truth come out?

What if every little thing
That people thought of you
Instead of being tucked away
Was heard, was listened to?

Would you be ashamed?
Would you cover your ears?
Would you rather be deaf
Than let the truth come near?

And what if every image
That passes through your thoughts
Was freed from its prison
To roam until it rots?

Would you be disgusted?
Would you look away?
Would you rather be blind
Than see your thoughts at play?

Wipe me down Inside out
Turn the music up to drown Me out
Liberated women but no words come out.
Make me shiny, better than before/
This is the better way
Even maple trees, those of pine
Aspen, cherry, and oak
My rawness was beautiful, but needed a different touch
Wipe me down Outside in, I can't remember who I was Before-
Render to silence or invasive compliance
Our mothers are seeds of time
Having branches they want to climb
Now that I'm older-
Polish
Me
Down
I am a woman before my time.

~Bre Womble
5/30/2020

Remembrance is the pitfalls of things we wish to not understand
When the towers come falling and all is lost in demand
The fragments and pieces of parts we wish to not see
I’m lying in a 6 ft ditch of denial and mistrust this can’t all be me.
There’s people looking down, people praying up and I’m silent in the words I failed to say
I’m frozen but thawed with the life I let wither away
We’ve got hours
We’ve got time
At least that’s what they say...
Tomorrow is not enough
Let’s live for today
...


~Breanna Womble
August 14th