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 Aug 2013 Brianne
blankpoems
You're so beautiful darling,
your words can move mountains even when you think
they can't touch an anthill.
You are a rebel with a cause and the cause is me.
You are Janis Joplin in the evening, without the ******.
"Darling, I love you"
"I love you, darling" and there was no need to say "too"
Three words were enough to throw a curveball in a hockey rink,
to ride horses in a car race, to love someone at night
and even more in the morning.
You are an earthquake, I know you'll break my heart but I welcome it.
It would be such an honor to be broken by you.
You are my guilty pleasure and all of my proud ones.
I want to tattoo you on my skin in places only I can see
so that every time I take off my sweater and my tshirt and everything
masking my scars and tree rings of age, I will always be surprised to find you.
I want to hold you in the crevice of my elbow like a baby and never ever let you go.
Darling, you're a willow tree that I write poems under.
In the most poetic way, I found you in hallways, always.
In my high school where I hid in the bathrooms, Jane loves John
and everything else scribbled in hearts in bad ninth grade writing.
I found you there. I find you here, in my heart.
You are filled with blood, you are 72% water that I would gladly drown in.
I think if I kissed you you'd poison me with your lips.
You are the forked tongue of desire.
I want to talk to you about dreams, I want to be your sweetest nightmare.
I don't want you to question reality but if you do, think you're lucid dreaming.
Because I want you to want me around; even when you're sleeping.
You are 2am with the lights on and the music loud.
You are a five hour time difference dancing inside of me like a storm.
If my knees wouldn't give out, I would run to you.
And when they did, I would crawl to you.
My hands scraped from debris from car crashes, you are electric.
You are heat lightning. You give me flashes of hope on a humid day.
You are a winter breeze through a cracked window in all of the glorious ways that could be glorious.
I will whisper to you that I don't know why I'm whispering,
there is nobody home, "I love you" sounds better in hushed tones.
You're so beautiful, Darling.
The prettiest pictures you'll ever take will be self-portraits.
Don't argue with me, I know you're stubborn.
It's written in the stars.
You can move me like a mountain or an anthill
because your strength is a blood diamond permanently placed on my left hand.
I did, I do, I will.
You are forever.
 Aug 2013 Brianne
speakeasied
mason jar dreams stuck inside
of broken things that you call love
we stored away our future
inside the promise of yesterday
and watched our relationship
slip through our fingers like the
sand on the beach that we dug our
fists into (I think, secretly, me and you
were pretending it was one another's flesh)
and through it all, we come home
with fake smiles and dying flowers and
the excuse of "it was the last bouquet"
hanging on our lips like severed promises
instead of admitting that the ugliest bunch
is always the cheapest (and I know that
we both knew you were lying, even though
we would never confess it) and maybe those
wilted petals were more fitting for our love
than roses because let's face it
the moment you were able to call me yours
is the second we realized our love didn't
have any of the necessary ingredients
to keep either of us
alive.
 Aug 2013 Brianne
andrea hundt
I could write a thousand words to take your breath away.

I could write about your drive,
The ways you make me smile,
How you keep me alive.

I could write about your skill,
How your pen hits the paper with a spark,
And that it always will.

I could write about the colour of your eyes,
The way your tears hit the floor and shatter me,
And the part of me that dies.

I could write about forgiveness,
How you always have some in your pocket
And how I wish I'd need it less.

I could write about the scars on your skin,
The battles you've fought,
The way you never gave in.

I could write about your laugh when you're drunk,
The way it echoed in my ears
And the way my heart sunk.

I could write a thousand words to take your breath away,
Or I could simply tell you you're a mess,
And I like you that way.
 Aug 2013 Brianne
blankpoems
never fall in love with the girl who writes poems about you
she’ll end up caring for you more than she cares about poetry
and that will mean destruction for both of you
she will compare you to the stars and the breath out of her own lungs
and she will count the minutes until she can be with you next
this is entirely troublesome, especially if you don’t feel the same way
although if you don’t, a heartache will be cause for more inspiration
I suppose love is a win win situation for writers-
fall in love, you have inspiration
fall out of it, you have inspiration

never fall in love with the girl who writes poems about you
she will get to attached
she will love you too much
she will fall in love with the curve of your spine
and the form of your smile
and the structure of your bones
and the placement of your words on her mouth
and the way your hair falls floppily out of place
and the way you don’t love her at all

never fall in love with a writer
never fall in love with the girl who writes poems about you
never fall in love with me
 Aug 2013 Brianne
blankpoems
You act like the flowers on my dress aren't alive,
like they won't root themselves in your hands when you touch me.

You looked at me with a mouthful of forevers
and I looked at you with stained glass eyes
that have never seen the inside of a church.

You act like my lips won't find you,
like they won't caress a map until they land on your hometown.
Until they touch your memories.

But that's all I will be soon- a memory.

Soon you'll realize that you have more flies in your house than loved ones
and you'll remember the day you pushed me away.

You were full of bad ideas and the color red.
Your hands reminded me of diamonds for some unknown reason.

You used to walk along the edge of the roof on apartment buildings
you said you were testing fate.
I called it testing the wind.
One bitter spit your way from the clouds and you'd be one with the cement.

I told you, "Stop batting your eyes at death darling",
it will greet you faster than you can say you wish you had more time.

I need you to keep my flowers alive.
 Aug 2013 Brianne
Sarina
It is August
but I have your shirt pulled up to my nose
like your scent will
protect me from another bad night.

I wear it as a turtleneck
and tuck my arms inward, making a blanket.
I am so sick of
              not feeling safe.

I remember asking you to use the tip
of your fingers on my
shoulderblade
caress the flesh into small waves
(You live too close to the sea to not taste
of salt)
then fabric wrinkled in a bundle.

Make me guess what the skinstrokes mean.
I am learning braille
or just how not to be alone.

I am so tired of
              waiting to know what you drew

when the sun is so high
shadows can only be cast on the oceanfloor
and everything above my clothes
breathes (I love you
too much to not taste of salt).

When summer ends
maybe I will get a good night's sleep, held
by seaweed and
reading your messages out of a bottle.
(inhale)

I've got a confession and an apology cause I'm really really sorry like a cat left out in the rain I feel all bedraggled but there's nothing I can do about it but baby I'm sorry

(deep breath)

I don't love you.

(sigh)

I just don't love you baby, I don't even like you that way and I feel bad cause I care for you and I don't want to see you hurt but I've got to do it cause like a splinter it'll hurt worse the longer I avoid it and it'll fester and smell and I got to rip it off now quick as I can like a band-aid

(gasp)

It came to me when we were walking that I didn't want to hold your hand in front of everyone and let them see and I'm sorry baby cause I know I been leading you on because I thought I liked you enough that it wouldn't matter but I think I only love your shoulder to sleep on and your coat to cosy up in and I guess I didn't like your lips enough

(gasp)

And you know I'm sorry for leading you on but I think it's not just my fault you see there was something off about you and I've been hearing things about you and her and I don't want to be just a hookup to you cause baby I'm just not like that I need a guy who can stand by me and not just for the weeks that we've known each other cause we're both gonna go home a thousand thousand leagues away might as well be on Pluto

(gasp)

I wish I could love you.
I wish I could hate you.
This in-between-ness is just- distasteful. 

(sigh)

I'm sorry.

(exhale)
 Aug 2013 Brianne
CrowesMuse
An Open Letter to my Best Friend**

You, dear are the strongest person I know,
And trust me when I say, I know a lot of people.

You stand, rooted as deep as an oak tree in my heart
Your eyes find their way into my dreams, burning with passion and fired belief.
Your sorrow matches the winds of the sea
Constantly badgering you
With the threat of drowning,
I'm so scared you'll take yourself from me.

Your voice is something,
I can only be thankful for
Coming to me in times of need
It has all the power to make my heart soar, suturing the bleed.

Your dreams,
You've been told,
Are far fetched at best
And unachievable at most.

What people don't understand
Is unicorns are shy creatures
Who just don't have the heart
To prove they exist.
Even though they run free,
Jump high
And take great pride
(Their horns are always meticulously shined.)

I think back on the times
You taught me to be strong
Without even knowing
You were consistently adding words  
To my life's song.

The melody just a little sweeter
While it plays in my head
Added like you do with sugar to your coffee before bed.
Sparingly,
But needed.
Oh so very needed.

You, my darling, have your roots dug deep
Your dreams being dreamed
Your life, I do believe
Is worth so much more than an amount that any bank could offer,
Is worth more than the english language can explore,

And all I need you need to remember,
The alphabet is composed of 26 letters,

Voldemort wasn't always in power,
take each insult
And pull a Tom Marvolo Riddle out
of the sorting hat.

Believe that the positive outweighs the negative,
And yes that means your scale is wrong.
Tumblr's idea of pretty girls,
Doesn't take place in my song.

So this is an open letter,
To my very best friend.
Darling, please know
You can always depend
and lean
and cry on
and hate
and call
and love
and trust

me.
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