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Ink my body.
It is the only proof
that permanence exists.
That above all things
ever lasting
even if attempted to be removed
it will always be there.
and "it" becomes a part of "you",
Regardless
of how you change.
The scent of the rain
will never smell the same.
Your cologne,
it stains my sheets,
and I cant bring myself
to remove a memory
that will never repeat.
The rain
will never sound the same
as it did in the summer
when all we did was
stay in late together
and imagine what life would be like
if we could just lay and create
our own soundtrack
to the rhythm of the rain
and speak to each other
in silence.
I never strip my heart on papers
unless its on days I cannot stand to hold myself together.
Sometimes I strip my heart into ribbons
And tie them around little boxes
To give to those that maybe one day will wonder
"This girl, such a giver, but never got a thing"
This girl,
such a giver,
but never genuinely got a thing.
The green leaves unfold
like palmistry revealing history
and future.
Sweet serendipity
for what can and what will be.
Keep calling back to me,
those sweet little friends.
That try to make mends
when they come and go
with the change of the seasons.
With untold reasons
but respected by the weather.

Things get better as they return in good health.
I am a timeless breath of air,
And you are the taste of a downing river.
Pushing towards oceans,
Where salty air finds company.
I am a timeless soul searcher,
And where I will find you
Will be with a breath of fresh air.
Down by the oceans,
Scoured by your salt.
You shift like the wind
Pushing from one cloud to the next.
We think time speeds up by what
Moves around us,
But we mistake the time we have for whats left.

Caress those clouds and carry them in your heart,
Dont forget what you have, and you have all the time in the world.
Be grateful for what you've learned
And what you've taught.
Open you're eyes, listen to the sounds,
The Earth is always talking.
And she is watching through the shrouds.
 Oct 2013 Cadence Musick
brooke
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
Wow, I am such a loner
I am such a loner, wow
Internally, I’m a loner
Physically, I’m a loner when I choose to be
Which is often I suppose
Because you see, I enjoy the company
Of my own awkward silence
Our bones are composed of empty spaces
That are meant to be filled up by each-others words
You need to tell me whether you love me or do not love me
That is the only way to keep me from breaking in three’s
My ribs they are so fragile
My tiny body atop the sheets of your bed, so very fragile
Oh, but I don’t want to be whole
Shut up shut up shut up
Succumb to the glories of drunken cinema with me instead
In your mind
Come, touch my thoughts with your thoughts
Whisper somber poetry into my ******* with your soft chapped lips
I cannot forget the temperature of your body
Your hand in mine is a fever I refuse to sweat out
Medicine, medicine, artificial cure of wounds
I like the way bruises add sass to my skin
Wow, I am so pathetic
I am so pathetic, wow
I will never grow out of it
You will never grow fond of me
What a cycled misery
Baby, baby just walk away

Another rainy evening in the city
6 2 4 P M
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