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Britney Lyn Jun 2020
A bittersweet taste from the bottle marked poison,
the "DO NOT ENTER" sign of our life's story.
We all have that red button, tempting for us to set the nuclear war of thoughts into action.
And no matter how many people tell us not to push it, we always do.
Because we were the children who struggled, we were born to be survivors.
Our parents never noticed the sickness that lay behind their child's wide with wonder eyes, no.
They listened to our words, but never broke apart the meaning in-scripted into our language.
We were hurt.
A hurdling meteor of innocence brought so violently into this Earth we call home.
Gifted the hearts that bleed of honesty and beat with anxiety.
Melancholy souls trapped within this soft to touch barrier,
The blade from our school day sharpeners rest upon the flesh,
Vigorous in our attempt to feel something more, anything but this.
Wandering endlessly through cloudy days in search of “better”
A letter left on the bedside table of our dimly lit room,
Every word striking a cord of truth that won’t settle easily when they hear the news.
We died here.
Laying helplessly in the grave of our mattress, our mind no longer racing.
Blood that stopped flowing hours ago because that’s how long it took them to find us.
To realize we were broken, to realize we would never give someone the chance to glue back together our fragile pieces.
Everything fragile breaks, and we couldn’t give anymore.
Not because we didn’t want to, no.
But because we simply had nothing left to give.
Cloaked among ashes we begin to heal,
wiping the slate clean, letting our heart begin to feel.
Repairing the broken damage our vessel has bared along the way
Lighting the world with a smile to lift others pain,
Stop and stare, stay awhile, away from despair.
Then my child; move on, throughout the world to prepare;
To step into the fire your heart once lit and rise like the great phoenix.
Britney Lyn Feb 2020
As the cars go by my mind wanders to you.
How your eyes turned amber in the light,
How your smile cut through me like a dagger,
Never the matter,
It was all for you.
Future talks and past traumas,
Highs, lows and all the dramas.
Back and forth in our ruthless endeavors, we thought we were clever.
Maybe one day we'll get better, but not together,
Because you broke the girl who was made from glass, crash.
Now she's too sharp for you to hold her.
She fell for a boy so lame, even though everyone told her
Britney Lyn Feb 2020
Would you forgive me if I close my eyes?
I’m oh so tired of my demons feeding me lies.
And if my parents happened to see, would they believe I was just asleep?
Would they rush to my side and kiss me goodnight or hold my hand in panicked fright?
You see, I’ve a hard time keeping all these emotions inside of me at bay,
The demons twist them up, they spit them out and present me with a tape to play.
Every doubt I’ve ever had, over analyzed and placed on repeat for me to constantly see.
I don’t know silence, she isn’t a friend, but maybe when I’m dead she’ll finally love me.
A clusterfuck of words I guess.
Britney Lyn Feb 2020
Dressed to impress in a black band t and suit vest
Tie around thy neck, tightly implace like a noose
Sneakers that don’t match, and black jeans that fit rather loose.
Who hurt you sir?
Who made you believe in the lies you speak?
Would you care to be honest?
To sit down over a cup of tea?
I know you don’t particularly fancy me, but I’ll be an ear to listen.
Intimidation doesn’t suit your walk, but regret becomes your stride.
It’s always the same.
A shame, to reach for such heights to be devoured by the fame.
I decided to write down a poem about the drunk man who came into my store a couple weeks ago.
Britney Lyn Dec 2019
Death is a mistress that I love to play dangerously with.
She's the embodiment of seduction,
My crimson muse,
My femme fetale.
Piercing hues that still even the strongest of hearts.
Silken dreams in nightmare sheets,
Discerning movements of heated desires,
She feels like fire,
And I a heart shaped from glass will shatter upon her touch.
Down on my knees I plead, take me.
Britney Lyn Nov 2019
I miss you. I miss you so ******* much.
Everything I see, everything I do, reminds me of you.
Your voice burns like acid in the back of my throat when I cry into my pillow at night.
How I long to feel your hands graze my face just once more. I promise not to be greedy.
But that’s all our love ever seemed to be, not one satisfied with what was presented.
No golden platter for me to serve your ego further.

Tomorrow it’ll be a week. One whole week without seeing though smoldering amber eyes.
One whole week without your touch, your lips, your company.
One whole week without hearing the words “I love you”.
I sit in my room, repeating voicemails you’ve left me over and over again.
Some of them remind me why I left, the others remind me of why it was so hard to.
I loved you so deeply that I didn’t realize how far I’d sank. Will I ever see the surface again? More importantly; will I ever see you again? No...

I love you, and I hope I never forget the smell of those after *** cigarettes, the way your hair looked when you stepped out of the shower, how happy you looked when you’d smile in your sleep.
I hope I never forget how it felt when your hands melted into me when I was high, or how the sun felt on my skin when you showed me its warmth for the first time.
I hope I never forget those late night drives, or the look in your eyes when you saw me naked.
I hope I never forget the late nights spent watching tv or playing games, or the first night we met when I was a literal nervous reck. But I think I knew even then how much you’d end up meaning to me.
I hope I never forget all the reasons I fell in love with you.
But then again... maybe I do. Hope I forget.

Because I know I’ll never have you.
I know that we’ll never fix this.
And that’s okay I’ll say.
You told me you always wanted to be apart of my life, you lied.
You told me I was just like everyone else,
You told me I always made you out to be a monster, but here you are villainizing me.
You told me you’d be there if I needed you, and god I need you so badly.
But I promise you, I’ll act as if I’ll never need you again.
I love you,
And I’m sorry this is where endlessly ended.
I truly hope that you find happiness, whether it be in yourself or within another. I never wanted it to end this way. I never wanted to hurt you. You never believed a word I said when it came to my feelings for you. And I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to prove those feelings to you. I’ve always been bad at talking, I know that drove you crazy, and I’ve always been bad at goodbyes so I chose not to say it. I’m sorry I turned out just like everyone else, another crazy girl to add to the list of ex’s you decided you never really loved. Another user, another girl who became her issues, another tragedy.
Maybe we’ll get it right in the next life.
Maybe next time love really will conquer all.
But not this time...we’ll only end up destroying each other more. And we both know we don’t have much left to destroy.
Britney Lyn Oct 2019
I am not a pet, some whimpering ***** you left on the side of the road because I was too wild for your tame. My bark was bigger than any bite you ever gave, and I swear even though I wore that leash occasionally you never owned me. I know you like me down on all fours, begging for my teaspoon dinner, a slap on the *** for bad behavior but I was far too ruthless to kennel because my cage was inside of me. Trapped in these prison bars I built around this heart, a barrier, a wall for you to climb over but you never did. You called for me, pat your knee and baited me with “treats” but I was far too smart to lower my standards to something so submissive. So yes, this ribcage encases this steadily pounding rhythm in my chest, but never the less it still beats, like the hands that made fists and left watercolors of muddied sea and flowers plucked too early. My body, aching for hands that claimed to love me but only pulled back, and aimed to mark me as territory. I will no longer tuck my tail between these legs in hopes of keeping what rests between them mine. Because all the beautiful lies were a pitch only I could hear, pinning down my ears in hopes that one day they’d gentle to truth.
No more sit, no more stay, no more ***.
I am not a pet,
I do not lap at your feet and beg for your crumbs of affection.
I am a *****,
loyal to a fault and worthy of a true companion.
Late night poetry thoughts
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