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856 · Apr 2014
Space Needle.
brooke Apr 2014
attached by heartstrings
my mom documented every
millisecond of my life which
ultimately included you, every
photo a timid look, loving glances
our hands permanently floating
gently draped legs, I hid behind
your glasses with you, i hid behind
your glasses with you, were we one
and is this why I
why i
why
i
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
brooke Oct 2012
I realized just now that some day you'll
stop loving me for someone, some one
something, some thing,
will creep into your head, with thin fingers and undo the
knots I tied between your ribs with my tongue
she'll hose down the paint inside your heart that i threw
in buckets, angrily and with a vengeance
hang up her own art that will look better and hurt less

you'll slowly edge away and forget why you were
so passionate about staying, with less words that I'll miss immediately
even though I never reply but to you
to you
you're walking farther away, to come back
although at one point the sun will go down, you'll
sleep on a road and wake-up to find
you could go further
you could walk further and
somewhere along the way you'll turn back

because wasn't there someone you were supposed to love?
[me]

when you arrive i'm surprised and
you fail to recall the part of you that was so deeply enamored, he's
gone.



i realized just now that someday you'll stop loving me
ow.


(c) Brooke Otto
852 · Dec 2013
Closure.
brooke Dec 2013
You said thanks for
the closure and I
tried to hide how
wide my eyes got
all this time and
I was hoping maybe
maybe? maybe? maybe
what? Maybe, maybe.
What was I hoping
for?
(c) Brooke Otto 2013

one thing to the next.
850 · May 2013
Sierra Cliffs.
brooke May 2013
I had a dream
I was still trying
to outrun you,

what was that?
5th grade? I could
hear you behind

me, a thick breath
that got closer so
I ran faster, no

no, I cannot lose to
you again, I can't
be ugly, I can't

be alone on the playground
anymore, I can't be alone on
the swing-set, I can't go home
until this is done. No, Sierra, I
can't be the outcast again. I

can't beat you
can i? I just have

let go.
(c) Brooke Otto
850 · May 2013
Farmland Vessles.
brooke May 2013
There's still so
much I have
to talk about
(c) Brooke Otto
849 · Oct 2012
Playpark.
brooke Oct 2012
I had this dream where instead of
crows on the roof there were
cats and a dog who was friendly

The landlord discouraged my meetings and glued the door shut so
i could only look, set
wind chimes in my room to make sure
i didn't move about

but i ran fast and from
someone with green eyes who
terrified me but i didn't feel terrified

although my chest pumped
and he laughed in my face saying

I've been trying so long
to catch you
(c) Brooke Otto
849 · Nov 2012
Unfriendly Over Dinner.
brooke Nov 2012
I could pride myself
in the things I've never
done, but instead they
speak about liquor and
what they have seen at
the table, I have no choice
but to tread water in my
own morals, hope for a
topic I can relate to
(c) Brooke Otto
847 · Sep 2016
daybreak.
brooke Sep 2016
you will be able to say
once in a while
during the brief
jaunts in our underwear
the glimpses of green lace
under a white cotton shirt
that moved across my shoulders
on the hardwood floors, our heels
stomp and slide, and my thighs
quiver under weight and laughter
you caught me and I turned
turn to hold your neck


but I pause to bring you close
to hold you, as if you were
a vase of baby's breath and ferns
to look you over and wonder how
one moment I was sitting here writing
this on the couch on a september evening
and how you are here now,
with a strange familiarity
and the watch on your wrist
softly clicks forward
but I can hear it from
inside the glass, atop the second hand
sweeping over the ticked surface
reflecting the sweet blue daylight,
the warmth of your body and
the gentle harmony of two people
who have found eachother.
(c) Brooke Otto 2016

sounded better inside my head in moving pictures.
847 · Jan 2013
Pears.
brooke Jan 2013
I want to
taste that
kind of
happiness
(c) Brooke Otto
847 · Feb 2014
Backwards Insomnia.
brooke Feb 2014
a skyscraper counted down
the red seconds until I woke
up and i stood naked on the
streets of a dream waiting for
my alarm to go off.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
846 · Dec 2014
counsel.
brooke Dec 2014
inside there was a
spat b e t w e e n my
bones, a wrenching
in all the sockets
every single
curl in my
brain was unfurling
but all I could do was
pinch the calluses on
my palm with a calm
ferocity, he does not
want me to c o n d e m n
myself but i was already
******* in, concave and
ready to collapse.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
846 · Feb 2013
Untangle.
brooke Feb 2013
if only the sun shown a bit brighter
but these streetlamps will have to do
they seemed to glow when he would
kiss me, he's gone spelunking in my
heart to dissolve the mites and tites
where my reality teeters on emotion
and the soles of my feet may disband
as feet and the ground as ground, but
here the upheaval of roots can only be


good
(c) Brooke Otto
843 · Sep 2012
Bile.
brooke Sep 2012
******* for
being exactly what you
hated me for calling you
no I don't regret it because
it's true you
*******
you're a liar
you're a ****
you're a man
Can you tell I'm bitter?

(c) Brooke Otto
843 · Mar 2012
Chaz.
brooke Mar 2012
I am leaking silently,
like pipes beneath the kitchen sink
You find out that mold had nested, accumulated
in the corners and caused the floors to rise up
Heave their wooden planks and produce discoloration,  
My chest is that floor and the water has
no place to go so it soaks and strains,
*****, sighs, releases fluid in
t
e
n
d
r
i
l
s.
(c) Brooke Otto
brooke Feb 2014
if i could go back
one day and be the
person I am now, I
would choose that
day on the beach
at the end when
you told me
don't you
see that there
is still something
between us?

that hour echos
in this town where
there is no place to
echo---you are the
most resilient memory
I have.
Part 2.

I've wrote about this day so many times.
841 · Feb 2014
little bean.
brooke Feb 2014
I'm tired of feeling guilty
over not doing lifts, or only
six squats, wondering why
my thighs look fat at the
gym, but okay at home,
stopping mid-crunch because
i can feel my ******* skin
i don't want to abhor the
body that I live in.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
839 · Apr 2017
17/30 (philippians 4:14-15)
brooke Apr 2017
when i was little my dad used to
call himself God, used to tell me
airplanes were bumblebees, told
me "bored" was just a plank of wood
so that was impossible--
never mumble, use an inside voice
but there's an outside voice, but
i never learned to speak with
conviction from him--

lately i've been calling my brothers
the weeds back there are taking over,
the spiders are everywhere,
god, zak, my heart is breaking
god, little sister I wish I was there, but
I'm not girly.


people used to tell me to howl at the moon
but i've always been afraid of my  own voice
always wanted to scream but replaced the urge
with a smile

be blameless and innocent? Lord, I've been trying
but you can't force what you ain't,
tryin' doesn't seem to be enough for you either
but i've come to find i don't know you as well as
i thought, so bear with me while
I am, while I am
tryin'
(c) Brooke Otto 2017
838 · Feb 2014
Rimy.
brooke Feb 2014
you know that way that cars are cold
and the bite of 18 degrees gets under your skin
the way your chest dimples in, and the pores
around your ******* forget to breathe, your body
shrinks in the morning breeze

the way the fog turns red above Florence's lights
and the next town over looks like it's on fire, the
mountains hide in a thick of snow and you can
feel their chill in your very bones?

I will always sleep with my windows open, in the
heart of winter and the palms of summer. I like
the way I feel small in the winter, i like the way
I feel small in the winter.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014.
838 · Oct 2012
Snippet, and some math.
brooke Oct 2012
I have so far searched all the wrong places
And the someone I would want in my life
Shouldn’t want someone like me at all
So how do I get there?
This apple cider is cold.
(c) Brooke Otto
834 · Oct 2013
Pigeon-holed.
brooke Oct 2013
we all want to be
opened or discovered
but I want neither, I don't
even want the want the want
(c) Brooke Otto

A desire.
833 · Oct 2013
Edit.
brooke Oct 2013
we aren't pretty
enough without
filters, we like our
faces better with
faux overtones
people like
us better with
faux overtones
but really we
just want to
be loved
in honest
to god


daylight.
(c) Brooke Otto
833 · May 2013
A Brand of It.
brooke May 2013
He says they're weaknesses
the reasons, I mean. The reasons
why he couldn't say anything, when
they called me a *****. When they called
me crazy and awful. I desperately try to
process those weaknesses, because there
have definitely been times where I could
not say anything either. Yes, I was
silent in the presence of my adversaries.
And he watched me take the blows
he lent an open ear to their
curses and listened
without a word. Without a word
he took none for the team and walked
from the field. So I rattle the fence and blow
from the sidelines, I tell him
You really don't know this kind of loneliness
do you? Because it's been this way since I was
little, since before lunch tables, since before nap
time. I say,
You really don't know this kind of loneliness
but I'm beginning to wonder if no one does
because everyone has their own.
(c) Brooke Otto


Yesterday.
830 · Feb 2014
Two Weeks.
brooke Feb 2014
she said that it's not true
that you have to love yourself
for someone else to love you but

it is true and it resonates with me.
I can't rely on somebody else to
build me up only to find I have
nothing to fall back on, not even
self-love, so all I'm trying to say
is nobody can love me until I
love myself and I can't
even do
that.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
829 · Jan 2014
Transpose.
brooke Jan 2014
you're living under a warm
pink light and I can see you
holding her hand between
the wooden seats in that
cafe

there's a glass of cold water
on my desk and I'm about
to go to bed.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014

a poem about acceptance.
828 · Aug 2016
depth.
brooke Aug 2016
what have the drunkards told you?

that you were beautiful--
different, gentle, pure
while they were busy
vacillating, you found
yourself whole among
their stormy seas, a tidal
wave bearing down upon
choppy waters where sailors
are lost and boats are sunk
ships full of diatribes and
bitterness, crippling resentment
folded into the bathus --

What have the drunkards told you?


to be less, to dissolve, to speak expressly in
salt and ***, come down from the hill, from
the towers, from the lighthouses where you
poured over the bounding main
learning to be for others lost
what have the drunkards told you?
mixed and unbecoming, double minded
and hopeful for your body


but testimony seeps out from beneath your dress
and some men are scared of lights and lamps
of flowers pressed into the walls, quiet and
unassuming, of stair steps and bookcases
without books

be the light
be the light
(c) Brooke Otto 2016

it is what it is.
827 · Aug 2013
God-fearing.
brooke Aug 2013
He was like the thunder
8 miles, 7 miles, 9 miles,
suddenly, three. Suddenly
gone. Suddenly,
rain, suddenly
none.
(c) Brooke Otto
826 · Aug 2013
Cayenne Heart.
brooke Aug 2013
I always relented when
you tried to put cayenne
pepper in the dishes you
made for me. Spicy things
open up the taste-buds
you
lectured. And no matter how
much I'd poke your shoulders
you always managed to put
a pinch in. I claimed to hate it.

This morning I poured hot salsa
onto my breakfast and ate it without a

problem.
(c) Brooke Otto
825 · Nov 2013
Wasting Time Spent.
brooke Nov 2013
i sometimes wonder
if all the inspiring quotes
you see make you think
that all of them were the
opposite of
me.
(c) Brooke Otto 2013
823 · Oct 2013
Junior Year.
brooke Oct 2013
that white floral perfume
by michael kors reminds
me of the day we scaled
the abandoned house
down Picnic Point Road
and I took pictures of
Kaitlin framed against
the red flowering currants

We found the beauty in careless
graffiti and marveled at the way
the sun sparkled on the charcoal
shingles. That summer we buried
ourselves in orange honeysuckle
and irrationally proclaimed our
friendship (that never lasted)
but i remember sitting
on the roof with you.


I remember that, amidst
the evergreens.
(c) Brooke Otto
823 · Jan 2014
Waltz.
brooke Jan 2014
there are
recent revelations
so secret, I am scared
to share them as if they
were birthday wishes and
you never tell someone
your wishes.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
821 · Oct 2015
Unknown Pastel #3
brooke Oct 2015
all the lights were out with the
exception of one orange creme
porch light weakly splayed through
the sliding glass door and it made
your face look like the purest
pastel I've ever seen in my life--
a-not-quite-brown but not-quite-yellow
and it moved across your lips when you
spoke, touched your tongue when you
paused and looked good on everyone on
the 1st floor of your parent's house
probably because i was delirious
and your dad had just driven 3 hours
in new years traffic to come pick us up
in downtown Seattle after your car took
its last breaths and we lost Joe as a friend for
the next
two years.


today
i finished the diary I started
on January 1st, 2014 at your
house before anyone was up
and I had fallen asleep in the
chunky gold necklace from
the night before, tucked into
the couch with my feet stuffed
beneath Brett's thighs, listening
to her voice--and Christina's and
Josh's and also my own startling
contributions in rhythmic breathing--
at some point you whispered that I was
sleeping (only half-true) because this
particular moment was insignificant
but happens to be one of the only things
i remember


that pastel color and making tea
the next morning wondering how
far away i'd be in ten seconds
and here I am,


here i am.
word *****.

(c) Brooke Otto 2015
brooke Sep 2013
the last time we
spoke with our
voices, i asked you
why won't you sleep
with me on skype?
and
you nervously smiled, played
with something between your
fingers. i asked again, why?
I felt you aimlessly search my
face before you said, I don't
want you to see what I've done
if i accidentally roll over.


I hid beneath the covers and cried.
you said
[                          ]
(c) Brooke Otto

more stuff.
820 · Dec 2012
Ineffable.
brooke Dec 2012
the eyes are probably the truest--
but even my dad said that people
may see colors differently
(c) Brooke Otto
817 · Jan 2014
Chez Wolff.
brooke Jan 2014
i feel like i never
left or maybe just
spaced out for six
months but this
place still feels like
home, the cold still
chills me to the bone
but i wear nylons and
stretch numb fingers
smile at the people i
will always care for.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
815 · Dec 2012
Campus.
brooke Dec 2012
Does the night air
ever make you cry?
I inhaled and began to cry for no reason.

(c) Brooke Otto
815 · Apr 2013
Well, that's not very nice.
brooke Apr 2013
Because he gets to do whatever he wants! He gets
to go to cafes and draw dumb things and he probably
got drunk there too, with his stupid         sister. He even got
to get a tattoo and everyone loves him for it, everyone adores him for it.
But people hate us.
He's an attention grubbing idiot.
He has a job.
He can't fess up to anything, he just keeps lying to himself.
In hindsight, this poem is awfully childish. My stream of consciousness as of late hasn't been pretty, but I thought I'd try documenting my thoughts real time. Bear with me.

(c) Brooke Otto
812 · May 2013
Helium to the Head.
brooke May 2013
I once had an affinity
for apple butter and
slices of roast beef.
Everything in the
world has always
mattered to me,
so yeah, I have
been stressed
since birth.
(c) Brooke Otto
809 · Oct 2016
detritus.
brooke Oct 2016
i think i am lost


because i've felt nothing
to be right, anger in every
drink of water, i used to be soft
and gentle,

but I am too calculated now
bleeding white lies and pretends
soup broth, brittle bones
snapping beneath a touch
or shaken by a lust
awaken by a kiss
put to sleep all the same

I have so little to give
I have been fronting with
what my mother wants to
hear, and I'm afraid it's all
a fib,

what if I am only a shell of
words my father has spoken
paper mache and tea leaves
a prophecy spoken too soon
what if I am to fail
swallowed up in
this bitterness


what if I
am to
fail.
(c) Brooke Otto 2016

checking in to say i'm not ok.
809 · Jul 2014
Bless You.
brooke Jul 2014
Make a wish on your necklace clasp
he's thinking about you when you
sneeze I wonder if you see hallmark
cards and think of me, if you read
Monte Cristo and wish I was
Haydée, if you grow flushed
during that chapter of The
Great Gatsby
where your
voice broke twice and  
you let your head fall
back, I miss the ways
I could make you
do that.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014

I didn't intend for this to rhyme.
809 · Oct 2012
Euphoric Mal
brooke Oct 2012
There was this dream
peaches, grapes, the ocean
a wind that spoke in salty whispers
my skin looked real, my laugh was real
Oh God, please let me make it to the water
Let me make it down the hill
but when i turned around
a black dog was chasing me
it could have been a bear
i woke up saying
no
no
no
in a dark room
true story.

(c) Brooke Otto
brooke Feb 2013
There is still a place
in my heart for you
and I hate it
I hate it
I hate it
I hate it
(c) Brooke Otto
807 · Aug 2013
To the kid in Walmart.
brooke Aug 2013
I'm sorry your mom is
such a raging *****, I
know that picking
ice-cream is hard and
I would have given
you all the time in
the world. So don't
cry, don't cry, don't cry
because if your own
mother doesn't love you
then
I
will.
(c) Brooke Otto
803 · Aug 2015
twisted peppermint throat.
brooke Aug 2015
my anger has manifested
into sore throats, the perpetual
swallow, even while you sleep--
that no saliva, cotton ball in your
chest soaking up the living, leaving
me high and dry, contemplating
the meaning of every idiom,
every moment, every customer
that orders five 20oz mochas
and doesn't leave a single
tip but works on the block
and complains about local
business.
(c) Brooke Otto 2015
803 · Sep 2016
Half Naked & Water.
brooke Sep 2016
Half of the time we are silent.




I see the tip of your tattoo--the head of an eagle
at the nape of your neck below the delicate loops of a
thin silver chain -
and the thing about skin is that is whispers and pleads
to be seen or stung or washed

to be photographed, of course
mountains and valley exist on more
than one visceral plain, the earth comes
on more than one planet, one grain, we know.

That scientific studies show water to seek
the lowest point,
the lilac crest, the thoraclumbor fascia
(are we water? are you water? am I water?)
a percentage of it is water and the rest is
heart, the rest is soul

go stand beneath the water
and take your shirt off, take
your shirt off, gentle so that
the muscle doesn't stir, so
that you feel every inch of
cloth that doesn't belong
so that you don't see me
behind the lens
so that I don't
ruin what
good can
come of
being
naked.
(c) Brooke Otto 2016

I didn't want to let this sit in my head for too long lest it become drawn out and wordy
803 · May 2017
white yarn.
brooke May 2017
the next time you
go to the cabin
east of the fort
(my east, not your east)
(left, if facing the cabin)
(wrong)
look for the tree with the
white yarn wound
around the trunk with
a bunch of knots that
wouldn't hold,
where I
wished that no matter
what you
would be
here, that
i would last
past all my fears
and make it there again.
(c) Brooke Otto  2017

part 2.
800 · Sep 2013
Phone Highway.
brooke Sep 2013
My thumb
is poised above this
send as if it were
some rock on the
side of a cliff and this
happy birthday
were the town





below.
(c) Brooke Otto
799 · May 2013
Thin Dough.
brooke May 2013
(in the silence
he is doing the
worst of things)

(I'm afraid that
one day he will
say, I'm so sorry
so sorry, I did
what I said I
would not)

(but my fear is
unwarranted,
that would mean
that I wanted to
believe--that I
trusted in what
I should not)


so in the end
it's still my

fault.
(c) Brooke Otto
798 · Feb 2014
Coffee House Extravaganza.
brooke Feb 2014
i don't know
what he's thinking
but it isn't of me and I
shouldn't of him. He said
i have no preference
and I apologized when
I should not have because
the truth is I can't be sorry
forever for the  things I did or
said. I have to forgive myself
at some point.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
797 · Nov 2013
28th with Love.
brooke Nov 2013
warm inside
introverted but
i love the chatter
lip tint, gold eyeliner
beautiful around
familiar faces
no one would
ever break me
here. this is my

family.
(c) Brooke Otto 2013
796 · Aug 2013
Hail.
brooke Aug 2013
I wish I were
the red dirt
outside my
window who
takes the rain
in stride and
drinks heartily.
(c) Brooke Otto
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