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Brielle Byrne Aug 2014
I wrapped my lips around the words
felt by my skeleton as it
washed up against the shore of this silver tongue;
drifting,
laying still on the bank of a river,
cracking open,
water swallowing it in shame.

It wasn’t supposed to go this far.

I watched your fingers list its way
around the empty neck of a brown bottle,
the fragility reminding us both
amount the damage of throwing stones
at houses made of glass.

I avoided your eyes
as I lifted my own bottle to my lips,
quenching the thirst of the calling demons
that scratched and clawed
the lining of my being.
Couldn’t let you witness
the poison as it forces it’s way out.

No matter how badly I needed to feel anchored,
I was better off, left to drown,
than to pull you under
the waves birthed by my lack of transparency.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I couldn’t look at you straight;
my eyes covered by the blurred goggles
of the alcohol consumed
seeing you only
through the gleaming vessels
wrenched in your palm.

This shouldn’t be happening.

I ordered another round,
unable to stand the spectrum cast
or the colours of truth
behind the conversations

The amber tint of the bottle
reflecting nothing, standing
as volatile and opaque as
the soul clinging to it.

I finished my beer,
let the backwash cast back,
from every thoughtless, selfish draft,
and forced it back.

“I have to go, I’m sorry.”

I left my money on the bar,
hoping it was enough to pay
our demons for the night.
Brielle Byrne Aug 2014
Hastening in the sunset like foolish children
we watched as the yellow sphere tucked itself into the lake.

As night time fell,
I fell harder.
He had me in a trance
using his voice to pull me,
lure me,
he whispers
“the road is too long,
but the sky is calling”
Up
   Up
      Up
We flew while they slept
running lengths of the milky way
and doing loops around Saturn’s rings
only stopping once to visit the boy on the moon
not yet a man,
but in his innocence, he promised to light our travels
with the subtle glow of the moon.

He lead me all over the city
weaving us through tall buildings and low tunnels
forgetting the path well trodden
and forging our own way,
escaping reality and everyday monotony
forcing the dull, normal, tasteless days to separate
into 24 hour periods of potential for excitement.

We ran this one light town with our bodies floating through
the cement trees and brick mountains,
not letting fear cast a single shadow and
letting freedom take us to places unknown.

But as time kept slipping from our fingertips,
the last grain of sand began to fall;
he hurried to get me home.

We returned to make a blanket fort
and filled it with our memories of that night.
I settled into my cozy nest of pillows
and we stared out at the world we had just left.
I cuddled into his chest as he held me tight.
“Don’t let me go,
even while my feet are on the ground.”
As sleep took over my body,
I felt my night guide sneak back into the sky.

I didn’t stir when I saw his shadow leap from the window
in the soft light of the moon,
for I knew he would be back again,
when the great yellow sphere slipped back into the lake.
based on a night I won't forget.
  Jul 2014 Brielle Byrne
Olivia
It's 11pm and
I still haven't eaten yet,
been drinking
alcohol and coffee
to fill my stomach.
Maybe you'll love me better
if I was prettier, skinnier,
if I just wasn't me.
Your name is in the bottom
of every bottle, your lips
are stained where my mouth
falls on this cup of coffee,
and your breath is falling
out of my cigarettes and
into my mouth.
Brielle Byrne Jul 2014
Streams run in rivulets
into the moist crevices
of her blemished skin
trickleling through the
curvasious channels
down her naked sides
while tiny droplets
of clarity continue to flow
through the valleys as she
sit quietly under the heavy
rain from silver springs
cleansing her past anxieties
drenching her in bliss
showers after a long day
  Jul 2014 Brielle Byrne
ana f
our love was like a bandaid
hiding our rotting selves
as we tried to ignore the pain
and we both knew at one
point we were gonna have
to rip off our cover to see
if we healed, but we just
let the bandaid sit and collect
dirt along its adhesive rim
and ignored the infection
growing beneath it.

the pain was worse then the
sting after all.
  Jul 2014 Brielle Byrne
Jake Griffith
Let's never talk again,
because if we do
we'll both fall apart
in each others arms
and when that happens,
we can never be held again.
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