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 Jan 2015 Brider Olen
Devon Lane
Is it considered fire if you want to be burned?
 Jan 2015 Brider Olen
do not date a girl
who writes.
she will internalize
carve poems
into your eyelashes
instead of
kissing them,

she will analyze you,
calculate age
from the rings
your coffee cup
instead of refilling it.

she will memorize
the way your
lips curl around steam,
but not that you
take it
two sugars,
no cream.

she will read your
palm instead of
holding it
against her chest.

she will not
when you leave,
because she is
romanticizing it.
 Jan 2015 Brider Olen
I'm holding strong
Tight, so close the edges blur
Lines that once defined us
Now entwine us
Even though we are no longer the same
Your breath still warms my cheek
Heart still dances to your beat
We watch as the years pass
Age lines, laughter leaving it's mark
With time passing I wonder
If our eyes will find each other
At the end
Or if, like so many other's grip
We will slip away
When I was little
I fell off the monkey bars
and scraped my knee
Instead of running off to the swings
I got back up there
and I held on to each rung
so tightly
I had blisters in my palms
but when I got to the end I felt breathless
and maybe that's where it started.

When I began driving
I would grasp the wheel
so tightly
as if the more pressure I applied,
the better I could steer.
I always got perfect scores
on my driving tests
but my fingers ached
when I finally had it in park.

I've been clinging
to the remnants of a friendship
that I tripped into
and I didn't try to get back up
or strive for perfection
because I liked it the way it was
and I keep smiling while you walk away
but I can't wave
Because you broke my wrist
when you pulled away
but I don't think
that's all that's
 Jan 2015 Brider Olen
Devon Webb
I'll make you a
noose of
around your neck
 Dec 2014 Brider Olen
Devon Lane
You're a
hard working
while I'm a glorified
mason jar filled with
butterflies and Jack Daniels.
I want nothing short of
the entire universe
written on the back
of a crumpled up receipt,
and nothing more
than your hand
half-way down my back.
With that in mind,
I is a lonely and fragile vowel,
but U is probably the
strongest most immaculate
one of the five (sometimes six).
Our hands are meant for holding,
never hitting,
and our bones, molded from
stardust, not concrete,
but our tongues are as sharp
as dull razors.
Always, always, always
be cognizant of your
because what once was
so beautiful
will eventually slip out
from under your eyelids,
without so much as a kiss
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