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Brittle Bird Jan 2015
Go ahead,
                  bite me.

I’m sure you will hate the taste

   of this mess you’ve made
Brittle Bird Jan 2015
No, I am not alone
I turn to the sky
and glisten with the same stars
that touch the whole world
and I am not tired
My face is hidden in shadows
covered in blood, sweet
and tears as well
but I am alive.
I feel the gravel beneath
and between my bare toes
That prickling fire air
only sparks me more
Everything is heightened
in my scope of mind
and screaming with life
I know it deep down
like a charge through my bones
and remember that I used to feel alone
but now I look up into
her eyes, the universe
and know it was never true
I run past the illuminated windows
of lives people have built
for themselves
and even feel connected
to what they represent
I make my decision and begin to fly
the distance from lonely
growing inside
My roots are unwinding
and finally
ripping free
from all the cages
I made throughout my years
I take the forest path
in the comfort of dark
so that I can be alone
but won't have to feel alone.
I sit among the towering old trees and
I breathe
a deep gulp of the universe
It is calm and eccentric
and everything at once
It breathes
I breathe
and I am not alone
not ever
wherever we are
we are not
alone.
Thought I'd share one of my earliest poems, found in a journal entry. This is a lot longer than I normally do, but I had to include it all.
Brittle Bird Jan 2015
in my mind
we played by love
red roses
and sweet words to speak of
but

in your mind
we played by points
each new lie
another check on your score board
and

yes I know
that when I go
this game will turn into something
much more
still

no matter the blood
and guts that may spill
I'll take that
rather than losing  this to
you
Inspired by the Book Poem Challenge. The title is from the book Impulse by Ellen Hopkins.
Brittle Bird Jan 2015
At the midnight split
I admit all I wanted
were her taken lips.
Brittle Bird Jan 2015
That smell
of burning skin
like the way I felt when lying
on the bathroom floor

is not the same
as the hollow places
when I take up only a fraction
of the vastness in these bedsheets

but the worst part
is that metallic taste
of bitter end
with every single breath I take

when I can't shake off
the sheets of blood
or knowledge
of what I've become.
Brittle Bird Jan 2015
I want to see you wrap yourself

in all that you've become

And tightly now, for your end
          
has just begun.
To my sister, written on her 21st birthday. I love you.

21 words of my 21st poem for 21 year old you.
Brittle Bird Dec 2014
I'm so scared.

I'm so scared of what you will mean to me at 4:00 in the morning,
when I get to thinking most about my life
and that much thinking
can't possibly be alright.

I'm scared that maybe you are just a mirror of 2014,
an illusion made for laughing at all of us
who think maybe we can do better this time.
This time we'll change for sure.
This is it.

And 2015, dear friend,
I'm scared that maybe this time I won't make it
to the hopeful beginning of 2016
When I can say again with conviction
that this is the year we'll be great.

Yes, we will be legendary.

This is it.
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