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  Jun 2017 Brooke Cierra
Roses are red, violets are blue
Sugar is sweet and perhaps so are you
But the roses have wilted, the violets are dead
The sugar bowl's empty, and your wrists stained red
The sun isn't shining, the sky isn't clear
There's no silver lining cause you're no longer here
Rain keeps on pouring, there's no end in sight
You're laying there frozen, so far from the light
Your beauty's unreal, your smile the sun
But time can't be turned, nor your actions undone
The words that you wrote that I only read
"I love you so much, please don't cry when I'm dead"
The bond that we shared; a love that ran deep
The pain that we shared; a friend I could keep
I wanted to hold you to wipe the tears from your eyes
Been there the moment you said your goodbye
I want to forget but most times I don't
I want to let you go but I know that I won't
Tears on my face, memories burned in my head
The roses are wilted and the violets are dead.
Brooke Cierra Jun 2017

You knew I was sad as soon as I said hey.
As soon as you opened he door, you sensed it. Something was off.
You didn't say anything, you didn't prompt me.
Instead you said, "Let's just keep driving. Let's get ice cream, I'll pay.
Let's go sit in a park somewhere and just talk."
Thinking you were on to me I asked why,
You said "I'm bored and needed somewhere to go."
I let it slide.
But you knew, and you'd later admit to it.
But you didn't want to push it, you wanted me to disclose my sadness in my own time,
You wanted me to be comfortable and for that I thank you.

10 p.m.
This seems to be our thing now,
Sitting on the swings in a park long abandoned in the darkness
Rambling on about whatever we think or feel on that particular night.
You ask what I've been up to, a code we both know means "where have I been."
You've noticed the grad parties I skipped, or ones I left too quickly;
You've noticed the lack of photo-posting and online presence.
I haven't bothered you to hang out in a while.
You don't say it but we both know what you mean.

Because that's the thing, you know me all too well.

When I say I've been at home watching reruns of The Office
You know that means I've been sleeping on the couch in the same clothes for three days.
When I say I've been tired
You know I've been asleep from 3 a.m. to 3 p.m., and barely moving for the remaining hours of each day.
And when I say I'm forgetful
You know I don't mean forgetting grad parties,
You know I mean I've forgotten to feed myself for days on end because my body's gone numb to the feeling of hunger.

You tell me things I didn't know about myself.
When I, on the verge of tears, disclose that one of my "friends" makes me feel worthless by the way he talks -
And that even though I want so badly to be the girl who can take a joke that I too sometimes feel small -
You say you already knew.
That you knew because of the way I laughed.
How after he said these things that hurt me
My laugh wasn't loud and raucous like it is when I'm happy,
But soft, and airy, broken almost.
And how when I do this damaged laugh I lightly bat at the person's arm,
As if it's my way of slapping them without injuring them
Or trying to make them feel a little piece of the hurt I felt.
You say it's been like this as long as you've known me.
I ask you why you know this laugh so well, and you say,
"Because. That's when I know I've messed up.
That's when I need to apologize."

And you always do
But you've never messed up.

You ask if you've ever made me feel the way that he did,
If you've ever unknowingly pushed me to the edge of tear fall,
And you seem wounded at the thought.
As if making me feel the way he does would break your heart.
I assure you it's not true and you frantically plead that I'll tell you if you ever do
So we can talk about it and you can understand and be sure it doesn't happen again.

I laugh.
Not my sad laugh that you know more than I,
And not my boisterous joyful one either.
Just a light giggle to myself, because the very thought of you hurting me is so amusing.
It won't happen. Your soul is too good.
You're the most caring and thoughtful person I've known and yet you're concerned you might hurt me, as if it's even in your power.
You're not like that, you just don't know it.
Maybe you know me better than you.

You worry so often about being a bad friend,
But here's the one thing you don't know about me:
You're the only good one I've got.
Thanks for everything, you. Don't be a stranger.
Brooke Cierra Jan 2017
I had a dream about you
You said I was beautiful
And that you were falling in love all
over again
I wasn't even wearing anything special
But there you were
In love, like you used to be
But then
I woke up suddenly
And I thought
Why do I do this to myself
And I didn't know if I meant dreaming of you
Or waking up
  Nov 2016 Brooke Cierra
always anxious
Fake smiles, but teary eyes.
Alone in my room crying at night.

i'm just gonna hide the scars with a sweater
can't tell them i don't actually feel better.

i'm so sad but i can't tell you why
"i'm just tired" is my favourite lie.

It's almost christmas and everyone's happy
But in winter time i just feel so ******

I don't know why i feel so bad
truth is i'm just another depressed sociopath
This is the 2. time i've been feeling great all summer and started getting depressed when winter came.... hope it's better next year
  Nov 2016 Brooke Cierra
Thank you for crying
for being who you are
for continually trying
to understand who other people are

In those tears is empathy
that's the kind of man you try to be

Others should be like you
looking for the world in a sea of blue
trying to understand things they don't know
so that one day they'll be able to grow
Brooke Cierra Oct 2016
I see her walking in the hallways
Flawless as can be.
So effortlessly pretty,
And so much unlike me.

When she's with me in a classroom
I simply sit and gaze.
How'd he ever leave someone
So beautiful in countless ways?

With her gorgeous hazel doe eyes,
And wild mane of curled black hair.
I watch her and I see
Everything he once saw there.

Her smile and her dimples
Are so easy to love;
Unlike my crooked grin,
So easy to let go of.

She always dresses nicely,
Looking cute and sweet each day.
I never look as good as her,
Though I try in every way.

She has no need for makeup;
Her skin is tan and clear.
Mine is pale and flawed,
My features harsh and severe.

I wonder why he chose me
Instead of chasing her again.
I watch the girl with admiration,
But hold jealousy within.

And then one day I caught her
Looking back at me the same way.
I wonder if she was thinking,
"Why'd he ever give me a way?"
A poem written in a history class over a year ago out of jealousy and self-pity, after meeting eyes with the one I so envied. This beautiful and strong woman is someone I am now proud and lucky to call a friend.
  Oct 2016 Brooke Cierra
Do you remember when we stayed up all night while you read your poems to me?
The day we watched movies, didn't get out of bed & cried our eyes out because the stories were so moving?
It mattered not that we were broke or that there was a recession, we laughed and cried made our own fun and enjoyed all of our our obsessions.
I miss that man that first came to stay with me.
I no longer know who you are and why you decided to leave.
I try not to miss you while hoping that you miss me.
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