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Jul 23 · 1.0k
Priorities
Brooke Davis Jul 23
I was searching for love
He was searching for looks
Jul 18 · 125
Pleasure/Poison
Brooke Davis Jul 18
Your igniting gaze
simulatiously
sets off fireworks
and mustard gas
through my veins.
Feb 7 · 591
Thanos
Brooke Davis Feb 7
I would have crossed galaxies for you,
we could have exsisted in our own universe.

But you threw my love into the abyss and

snap

erased my memory.

What did it cost?
Sep 2018 · 1.2k
My Aesthetic
Brooke Davis Sep 2018
Laying naked
In an empty tub,
bottle of cheap bub,
writing ****** poems.
Aug 2018 · 219
Selfish
Brooke Davis Aug 2018
Why do I always pine
after that which is not mine?
Apr 2018 · 399
Ghost of You
Brooke Davis Apr 2018
I dream of your phantom at night,
spectres with empty promises
that tempt me all the same
and im reunited with my childhood daze.

I give in to the visceral wanting,
to your sweet shadowy haunting.
I am reminded of what I feel still,
old skeletons in the closet.

Cobwebs try to blur your memory,
but no matter how many times I attempt to banish these old demons,
I am still left with the ghost of you wandering my mind.
Apr 2018 · 174
Adventure
Brooke Davis Apr 2018
I am too complicated,
to be placated by a simple life,
I crave a new adventure,
only if for a night.
Apr 2018 · 267
Open Letter
Brooke Davis Apr 2018
It was hard hearing
you admit that you
would never love me
all those years
ago.

It's years later and
It's even harder admiting
that I still wish you
could have said
you would try.
Sep 2017 · 262
Empty Nest
Brooke Davis Sep 2017
Just how did she know that you were back in town?

and how did she know to call you when she was down?

Why were you with her, when you should have been with me?

•••••

Its cold when your lying alone in bed at 10 pm
wishing he were there.

And even chillier when you find out

later

that he was with his ex the same night.

•••••

There are ice shards stabbing my fingertips,
when I touch his side of the bed.

I just roll over,
release a shiver

and pull the covers
to my chin,

as my eyelids freeze shut
and my breath crystalizes
as I settle into
our empty nest.
May 2017 · 357
Dear Careena
Brooke Davis May 2017
I hope you see this,
I want you to know
how much I miss you.

Nobody understands as well
as you do dear,
not a soul
matches with mine
quite like yours does.

I know I could just text,
but thats not nearly as potent,
as this poem,
in this moment.

I may say some are my best friends,
but you are the only person
i've said this to
and truely felt
deserved the role.

Thank you for loving me,
me of all people!
I'm so very imperfect,
and I feel I am a **** friend,
and a **** person in general.
But you still love me regardless.

I feel very alone sometimes.

I just wish you were here my dear

and that I could listen to you
play Gorillaz and Elton John tunes
on the keyboard
while lying on your purple comforter,
your snoozing boston terrier at my feet, witnessing your beautiful twinkling laughter and crystal blue eyes spark
the room around us
to life.

I know you are a few
thousand miles away,
but sometimes it just feels like
continents.

I miss you ♡
Sep 2016 · 11.6k
S•K•I•N•N•Y
Brooke Davis Sep 2016
S • Skin tight, skeletal cage
both ribs and mind.

K • Keep a strict diet, never break it, always hide it from those who would disapprove, so I learned to suffered in silence.

I • Internally a growl would emit, I reveled in the power I would get from it. To know I was structured, I wasnt a jumbled mess. Like the mass jiggling, clingling to this withering carcass.

N • Never could the fat girl come back out. carve her, choke her, starve her till she lost the will to shout. Shout for help, shout for freedom, shout for love in this life. Useless, everybody knows only fit people have that right.

N • Nobody would believe if I told a soul my struggle. "You are huge, big blue
whale how can someone like you have a disorder?

Y• Yell, scream "I WANT TO BE ME"
But I can't because of our society
deeming people like me are wrong,
why should my weight define wether or not I belong?

But because it does I hate myself.
I live this life with a wish to die,
all because my body is not
S•K•I•N•N•Y
Mar 2016 · 721
Guilt
Brooke Davis Mar 2016
It coats my thoughts,
clings to my breath,
grips to my skin,
circuits through my blood,
latches to my heart...

it's so unforgiving,
settling deeper and deeper,
*It's constricting hold will **** me.
Sep 2015 · 674
Skin Tight
Brooke Davis Sep 2015
When my stomach is rumbling,
I skip another meal,
and my clothes get looser,
but my skin clings
tighter to my skeleton.
This is when I can honestly say
I feel truly beautiful.
How I used to think. How I sometimes still do. I'm ashamed I had done this for so long. But I loved every moment of it.
Aug 2015 · 1.1k
Hook, Line and Sinker
Brooke Davis Aug 2015
At the time it was worth it,
to be hooked like a fish,
baited by the bottle,
strung on it for years,
caught by
*addiction.
Written in another's view.
Aug 2015 · 1.3k
Jargon of a Crazy Poet
Brooke Davis Aug 2015
I can't write these sentences anymore,
or piece them together
to make sense,

crafting coherent thoughts
is hard enough...

words could never express
half of what i'm feeling.
It's getting harder and harder
to feel human anymore.
Jun 2015 · 779
The Dirty Floor Meant More
Brooke Davis Jun 2015
Her eyes had cast down,
burning into the tiles below,
I didn't know white linolium flecked with black spots could be so interesting.

But to her they were.

To her it was more important,
to prove how much I meant,
by showing interest in a
dirt smudged walkway,
over sharing a passing glance at me.
Jun 2015 · 806
A life Like Ours
Brooke Davis Jun 2015
Doctors and Clinical Psycologists diagnose Depression as:

A mood disorder causing a persistent feeling of sadness or lost of interest.

Sadness however is just a side affect of depression.

The real culprit is exhaustion.

Exhaustion
that the world hasn't changed.
Exhaustion
that your career hasn't changed.
Exhaustion
that you are poor.
Exhaustion
that your family or other people around you havent changed.
Exhaustion
because you cant seem to fit in with them.
Exhaustion
you cant seem to change your appearance.
Exhaustion
because you cannot change your personality.
Exhaustion
because you are recognized for a fake smile.

Or maybe

Exhaustion
because you are not recognized at all.


Exhaustion strikes because you are ultimately unable to change the mechanics in the grand machine that is your life.

You are stuck in a never ending loop.
A cycle of what you feel is a wasted life.

A life you feel you are powerless to change because you are too exhausted
to do so.

This is the true meaning of depression:

The desperate, crippling, aching, hurt you feel.
The heavy signs you release at the end of the day.
The anger that rips and shakes through your body.
The screams and sobs you let fly deep into your pillow so nobody hears.
The silent pool of tears that stream down your face at night.
The ones that cling and stain your cheek.

All the emotions that stop when you finally sleep, when everything stops and you are taken by the dark void of a dreamland, when the exhaustion finally ends.

With a life like ours
can you really blame the exhausted,
For wanting to sleep forever?
Just felt like this needed to be said. I used to feel so exhausted when I was in my really bad stages of Depression. A lot of people dont understand the pain because it's in your mind. But it's as real as a broken arm or leg.
Mar 2015 · 1.5k
Narcissus (10 words)
Mar 2015 · 4.4k
Depression
Brooke Davis Mar 2015
Depression
remember to breathe
time stands still for the wicked,
never good enough
Hell
Jan 2015 · 1.1k
October Eyes
Brooke Davis Jan 2015
October eyes,
were not eyes at all.
they were spinning gears, and cold steel
disguised in chocolate orbs.

October Eyes said it all,
Though not a single meaningful word
was uttered
through your lips for weeks.

October Eyes screeched
"Remove that thing at once! She is a cog in the assembly line!"

And that's just what you did.

You became the machine others expected.

And i became the scrap heap.
Nov 2014 · 1.2k
Did I?
Brooke Davis Nov 2014
Did I ever mean anything?
Anything at all?
Or was I just there
to keep the sheets warm?
How could I have let this happen?
Nov 2014 · 911
Record Relationship
Brooke Davis Nov 2014
Like a broken record
the same arguments

Play >>>>>

Stop ||

Rewind <<<<<

and in an instant
we add more scratches and chips
to the shiny spinning vinyl
that is our relationship.
Nov 2014 · 1.8k
Commitment
Brooke Davis Nov 2014
I know that things
are tough right now,
you want to be a turtle
and hide in your shell,
make like a carpenter,
And build up your walls,
become a caterpillar,
and cocoon from the world,
in hopes you'll sleep,
a sleep like death
until you see a different tomorrow.

But what you dont understand
is on that day I said I love you
I made a commitment.

That i'd
knock
knock
knock
on the shell,
until you are aggrivated enough
to peek back out,
even if it means
you reply with a snap and bite.

because at least you will
show emotion again.

That i'd be like a storm,
and break down the walls,
to lead you out of the box,
and back to the sun light,
even if it means
you'll want to beat
my heart up with a hammer.

because at least then
your heart will be working again.

That i'd come across your cocoon and kiss you awake,
to show you the beauty
of life once more,
Even if it means you *****
me from your life.

Because at least then
you will be alive again.

On that day I said I love you,
I made a commitment,
to you and myself,
that even when things
got to their worst,
i wouldnt leave you alone,

even if you hate me,
even if you hate the world,
even if the world hates you.
I will always love you.
Life is tough, love is even tougher.
Sep 2014 · 292
Back in the Swing of Things
Brooke Davis Sep 2014
People ask,
why don't you post much poetry anymore?
And my response to this inquiry
has simply been:

That perhaps there just isn't
anything worth saying right now,
my abusive mind has been on holiday,

maybe the pain has subsided,
and a new day is arising,
there is no hatred to spew,
or tears to drop,
my mind's back in order,
the beast has been locked up.

I know not how to proceed with writing,
now that things are no longer
doom and gloom,

but perhaps it's time I
bottle up the sunshine,
and share a few rays of it
with readers like you.
I figured I would actually begin to write again. For a long time I haven't felt an urge to write any poetry, in the past it was just a way to lash out raw anger and sadness with a whip of sensory wording. When things began to get better, and I no longer questioned my life purpose, or focused on everything that had gone to ****, I was able to lock the hard emotions back a.k.a. the beast. But locking the beast away also brought a drought to my creative poetry pool, to the point I began to think it had all but dried up. But it looks like a little trickle of hope sprouted with this jumbled non nonsensical poem. It isn't an Emily Dickson masterpiece or a feast for the senses, but it is something.
Jul 2014 · 3.5k
Lies and Sweet nothings
Brooke Davis Jul 2014
Don't tell me
things will be alright,
or sweet nothings
in the dead of night,
because even existing
has been a fight,
ever since you have
taken flight.
Jun 2014 · 1.9k
Word Vomit
Brooke Davis Jun 2014
I am not a fancy poet.
I do not use intricate words
or phrases to catch the eye
or ensnare the senses.
When I write,
it is not to elicit attention from
an inquisitive audience,
or gain fame.
I write to simply ***** my thoughts,
in untangible notes and scribbles,
and hope it can conjure
some sort of peace in my mind.
I share my poetry,
for the hope that perhaps,
you too can relate to me
and free your mind,
while we both try to
make some sort of sense
out of my word *****.
Jun 2014 · 1.1k
Another Life
Brooke Davis Jun 2014
In another life,
I would not be the girl
I am today.

I would not be
too pale
too freckley
too fat
too awkward
too lonely
too quiet
too much of a pushover
too oily
too pimpley
too plain.

In another life
I imagine myself
as a silent assassin.
With power and might;
I glide the rooftops
and dominate the night.

In another life
I am a sassy bad girl.
I'd pop off in seconds,
and attack with cunning skill,
so that none would mess with me,
unless they'd want to get killed.

In another life
I am a thin and hollow body,
a nameless maiden who roams
halls of white tile.
Donned in a buckled down
white jacket that crosses
at the arms so I constantly
get to hug myself.

In another life
I am not
the girl I am today.
I would be someone,
with a story worth telling.
Apr 2014 · 2.4k
Lusting
Brooke Davis Apr 2014
Last night I dreamt of kissing your soft supple lips,
And feeling their smooth dips under my wanting finger tips,
While you grabbed me by the curves of my hips,
Last night I dreamt of our polished bodies intertwined,
And slowly claiming your whole body as mine,
Oh baby, the things I would do to you,
If you would ever allow me to.
Well I had this saved in drafts for a while. I figured, what the hell, you only live once, I'll just post it.
Apr 2014 · 4.8k
Prisoner
Brooke Davis Apr 2014
Loving you must be a crime,
cause i'm stuck in this prison biding time,
waiting for a visit,
a call,
a postcard,
something,
anything to show that I don't mean nothing.
Do you even care at at all?
Apr 2014 · 3.2k
Dining with Ghosts
Brooke Davis Apr 2014
You become lost
once you decide
to dine with the ghosts of the past
for all they do
is gorge you in sorrow
and feed you with fury.
Apr 2014 · 12.3k
Cuddle
Brooke Davis Apr 2014
Cuddle me sweet lover,
under warm and wooly covers,
towards you my body hovers,
and with bodies intertwined,
there is nothing but you on my mind,
we could be free from this world for a time.
Apr 2014 · 726
Forever and Always
Brooke Davis Apr 2014
Let me in
and we can share,
a love like no other,
and I promise
to show I care,
every moment,
of everday,
i'll be with you forever,
and always.
Sometimes I write during class, this is one of those times
Apr 2014 · 2.0k
Warpaint Warriors
Brooke Davis Apr 2014
I love how hard it is for all of us to accept ourselves,
Putting on elaborate masks,
To go parading amongst the phonies.
I love how we all talk to and about each other,
But never try to repair the broken relationships,
But what I love the most is
how we all complain about our position,
but never seek the answers to put our minds at rest,
To keep the past in the past and move to whats best.

You sit here reading this,
And think,
"What a hypocrite!"
"What a beast!"
But I see my flaws,
and I know who I am,
Im working to help myself,
on levels that most don't understand,
Because while most put on masks,
I put on war paint,
and march into battle,
facing the demons of my past,
to look foreward to that brighter future.

And the truth is
I love all these things
because I sit back and realize,
that im not a warrior,
that is battling alone,
that we're all going through the same situations,
Just different scenarios.
that we all have difficulties,
living with ourselves,
The same difficulty facing the monsters in the mirror.

But it's time for us all to face the facts,
To bring out the war paint,
and throw out the masks.
Time to smear it all over,
cover up the flakes and cracks,

It's time to march into battle,
to beat down our demons,
wipe off the shame and sorrows of the past,
walk triumphantly into the sunset,
head held high and soul held higher,
and never look back.
Mar 2014 · 675
Inferno
Brooke Davis Mar 2014
I set fire to my broken chest
everytime I think ,
of what we can't be,
and I let these tears fall,
to try to put out the flames,
but nothing seems to quench,
this raging inferno.
Mar 2014 · 7.8k
Flood and Fire
Brooke Davis Mar 2014
I bite my lips,
to build a fortified dam,
that prevents my true feelings,
from flowing forth,
like a catastrophic flood
and drowning you.

But my cheeks betray me,
and as a forest fire,
a deep blush blazes across my features,
reducing all my defenses,
by allowing you too see,
exactly how you affect me.
Mar 2014 · 556
Stockholm Syndrome
Brooke Davis Mar 2014
My mind is being held ransom
by you darling.
and I can't help but revel
in the attention of my captor,
I'm not sure what this feeling is,
but I'm beginning to relish in
this Stockholm syndrome.
Call off the searches,
tell them to stop looking for me,
because I don't want to be found,
when being lost feels this great.
Mar 2014 · 12.4k
Ignore Me
Brooke Davis Mar 2014
Ignore me,
don't say another word,
bind my hands and
toss me to the ******* wolves,
at least they,
will crave me.
If only my flesh,
to nourish their young.
at least then,
my existence would prove useful.
Mar 2014 · 11.5k
Desire (10w)
Brooke Davis Mar 2014
nothing compares
to the burning desire
brought by his stare
Mar 2014 · 11.0k
Humanity
Brooke Davis Mar 2014
Humanity,*
We all have to keep believing in it.
because If we don't have eachother,
than what do we really have?
Influenced by a class discussion in English.
Mar 2014 · 750
The Best Part of Waking Up
Brooke Davis Mar 2014
And perhaps the best part of waking up,
isn't the folgers in my coffee cup,
but the dim glow of an iPhone screen,
with a notification of a new text from you,
a text that reads good morning,
that let's me know you took the time,
out of your busy day to let me know,
that you're thinking of me,
to let me know,
that you truly do care.
Mar 2014 · 1.7k
Counting Cars
Brooke Davis Mar 2014
Sitting on the front stoop in a cool spring breeze,
Counting cars like shooting stars,
Simple children's games not to be taken literally,
But focus on the passengers,
And perhaps you'll see,
The story behind the passing Prius or rushing Range Rover.

Perhaps you'll see,
A cobalt jaguar which holds
the tired lawyer in tight rimmed glasses and tweed jacket,
Driving to a large four bedroom,
three and a half bath house,
five kids and stressed stay at home wife.

The bills are getting harder and harder to pay as the economy crashes,
The couple is divorcing soon,
his law firm is going bankrupt,
The bills are becoming impossible to pay,
And all the stress is ******* him,
In a month he'll take his life.

Perhaps you'll see the pretty young,
16 year old blonde,
driving the second hand Subaru,
She is on her way to her high school now,
She is peering in the rear view mirror,
Trying to wipe the mascara trails off her face,
And hoping that her friends and teachers won't see the ghosts that haunt her,

Her mother died last month,
from a drug overdose,
And she was beaten again by her drunk father this morning,
and she will keep being beaten until she has the self confidence to stand up for herself,
but in the meantime,
she'll keep covering the bruises with foundation,
And wiping the tear trails,
apply  more mascara.

Perhaps if you look close enough,
You'll see the little red headed girl,
No older than four,
With large green, curious eyes,
Gazing out the window of a Honda pilot's door,
She is on her way to pick up her brother from soccer practice,
With her doting mother,

What nobody knows yet,
Is the little girl suffers from schizophrenia,
And she hears all the voices,
That tell her to do terrible things,
She has no friends in her neighborhood,
and her parents ignore her,
Focusing their energy on her all star brother,
she is all alone in this world,
just her,
The other her,
And her imaginary friend.

Looking at the passing cars,
And staring briefly at the passing passengers,
who never spare a second glance at me,
I can see these things,
or at least,
Pretend I can,
because perhaps it is easier to see the world this way,
Perhaps it is easier to agree upon the fact,
That we all have our own stories,
we face every day,
Our own struggles,
that lead us through a twisting plot,
perhaps we could all take the time,
to read other's stories,
Instead of trying to perfect our own fairy tales.

So you may say i'm like a child,
Sitting on this stoop,
but i'll just tell you,
To take a seat next to me,
and together we can,
count cars like shooting stars,
and read the passing stories.
Mar 2014 · 28.2k
Jealousy
Brooke Davis Mar 2014
I don't want to imagine you and her
hands intertwined
walking together in the dark concrete jungle
while I'm left alone on these cold dirt roads.

I can't imagine how you could ever
love a girl like me
that looks upon your past
with such jealousy.

And you wouldn't imagine
how one look in those eyes
makes me gravitate towards you
and forget those times
when you were
with her.
Mar 2014 · 263
Change
Brooke Davis Mar 2014
Hours,
Days,
Weeks,
Months,
Years,
they have all flown by,
time doesn't change,
and it never will,
I haven't changed,
same scene,
different scenario,
I still ask
for what I can't have,
and I still push
those I love away,
because I want change
but I don't know how to initiate it,
so i'm stuck in the same hours,
Days,
Weeks,
Months,
Years.
Mar 2014 · 660
I dreamt
Brooke Davis Mar 2014
Last night I dreamt of a large airy abode,
and with it's presence my senses seemed to erode,
a gut feeling told me to enter that shack,
and stepping through the solid wooden door I entered,
crippling chills running up my back.

I walked through that barren, cold, dreary house,
padding along as quiet as a mouse,
I came upon you perched in a dark hallway,
If only I'd known that you were so far away,
for the man in front of me was not the gentleman I knew,
and as you slowly inched forward my panic grew,
for in your hand was a crimson tipped knife,
and I knew the man I trusted most would take my life.

So the tears began steadily flowing,
and with slick sweat my skin was glowing,
as I turned to run from the man I loved,
making my way back I pushed and shoved,
commanding my body to move faster,
but to the floor my feet were plastered.

Glancing back I saw you draw nearer,
as my final moments became so clear,
with a burst of speed I came to that heavy front door,
but with a sudden gust it slammed with a roar,
anguish and sorrow slowly enveloped me,
as my body shut down and I fell to my knees.

Above me you stood grinning and slowly held up the blade,
as I begged and pleaded for someone, anyone to come to my aid,
with eyes full of betrayal I look into yours,
and it seems that by you, I was still lured,
For I realized even then that I could not despise,
the killer who owned those beautiful eyes,

as I screamed  to a seemingly non-existent Lord,
you began to get weary and obviously bored,
down, down, down, came that sharp crimson dagger,
and with its impact I began to stagger,
I fell clumsily to the ground,
with a thunk and a pound,
as you stabbed me repeatedly with fiery ferocity,

I wondered what had I done,
To make you hate me so ***?
and with my last cry,
I gave to you a final goodbye,
and watching your receding body, I slowly drifted,
into the eternal sleep with broken body, hollow heart, and lost soul.
I tend to have vivid nightmares, this is based on one of them.
Mar 2014 · 790
The Key
Brooke Davis Mar 2014
I can't help but feel a tad bit remorseful,
thinking back to that fateful night,
when we stood together in the pale moonlight,
and spoke freely of anything and everything,
letting those stone walls crumble,
the problem is I connected,
and it pains me to look back and realize,
that that evening sealed my fate,
that I decided that I craved
what I could never possess,
*the key to your heart.
Yet, I cant help but admit that that was one of the best evenings of my life.
Because it brought me closer to the one person,
that knows me inside and out,
the one that brings me the most happiness,
the one who actually cares.
Mar 2014 · 575
Rising Feelings
Brooke Davis Mar 2014
And like a balloon,
he rises above all others,
while like a child,
I gaze upon him,
with starry eyes,
and try to hold on to him,
before he floats from my grasp.
Feb 2014 · 631
Beacon in the Sea
Brooke Davis Feb 2014
Hands, feet, hair, clothes, faces,
In a crowd they all bleed together, all look the same,
and i'm desperately searching for your passing figure,
Smiles, frowns, looking down,
everything becomes a nauseating swirl,
as I too am spinning to find my center,
teal, blue, yellow, green,
they all pummel me like crashing waves,
and suddenly all of the chaos dulls,
as my senses are wrapped in a familiar comfort...

your scent

Eyes rise and are captured by yours,
and i'm suddenly grounded by the deep earthy browns,
as your gaze makes everything fall into place,
the storm calms and the waves die,
I finally find my center,
*my beacon in the sea
Feb 2014 · 744
The Caged Bird
Brooke Davis Feb 2014
Little bird, you perch so daintily on the swinging bar of your heavy iron cage,
flitting back and forth looking, here and there,
But behind thy beautiful breast and chiseled beak,
is a deep tempest of boiling rage.
Quick! Here comes the roaring audience again!
They scream and beg of you to dance and sing,
better keep up the charade little bird,
or they will throw you off the stage.

Little bird longs to be from its prison,
But with clipped wings it's impossible to take flight,
The iron cage seems to be slowly constricting,
and little bird decides it can't take any more of this "life" ,
Soon the master comes by again to feed it crumbs from his ***** hands,
the rusty door slowly opens with a creak,
little bird makes a choice and decides to take a risk,
and with sudden faith, makes its final leap.

Little bird free falls through the air,
the taste of liberation is so incredibly sweet,
but all good things must come to an end,
and with a crash that beautiful bird hit the ground,
and with it's final breath makes it' s last little tweet.
To my parents, who have created a well carved cage.
This little bird will eventually be free.
Feb 2014 · 312
Here and There
Brooke Davis Feb 2014
"I was not there, yet I was there"
For someone to be there,
Its a wonderful thing.
Most of us go through our whole life,
Not being there.
We experience things based on our own selfishness that covers our sight,
Our feelings begin to fade as we float,
Further away from there.
You draw furthur away from there as you get older and realize,
Everyone else has too.
Some people reflect and wonder,
How do I get back to there?
But most don't even care.
They decide to bow their heads,
And settle with here.

— The End —