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Brittany Zedalis Jul 2017
I remember the innocence of childhood,
like one remembers the smell of their mothers' perfume,
I remember that, too,
easy recollections of railroad ties
and the thrill of hiding
at the bottom of a pool,
hastily replaced with the loneliness
of watching the moon rise
from the center of a midnight field,
overtaken by teenage fury,
violent and vengeful for a stolen childhood,
now adults leaving ink footprints
through the new age,
teeming with a different variety of rage,
unwavering and driven,
lamenting on what could have been

~Leaves of Ink 2017~
~Leaves of Ink 2017~
Brittany Zedalis Apr 2015
ink from my pen
flows through my veins
just beneath the skin

snaking its way
towards the source
of its maddening chaos

it stains the bones
of my rib cage
seeping into the marrow

it searches
ever yearning

Speak only when it improves silence.
Brittany Zedalis Jan 2015
champagne gleams in starlight
encapsulating souls of the ocean
weave through the coral maze
shades of the setting sun
shoot across the sky
golden eyes engulf a mind so alive

Another poem about my trip to Puerto Lindo, Panama, last summer. My grandmother-in-law loves my poetry, so she requested that I write something about the trip and read it to everyone on our final day there, and this is what I came up with.
Brittany Zedalis Nov 2014
I long for the soft swaying of the boat,
the calls of howlers nearby, signaling the
oncoming of another heat-ridden shower,
a sweet taste of red wine on my lips
while I watch as he stands on the bow,
the wind brushing hair from his eyes
as the rain begins to trickle down,
a nearby camel rushes for cover
beneath its sturdy shelter, and I wonder
if this is what peace feels like
I took a trip with my husband to Puerto Lindo, Panama, this past summer. It was my first time leaving the country (and I'll forever avoid planes in the future). We spent a week and a half or so on a boat with my father-in-law and grandparents-in-law, relaxing, snorkeling, hiking up a mountain, visiting wild monkeys, and so much more. Truly an amazing experience that I'll always cherish and miss.
Brittany Zedalis Nov 2014
my thoughts drift away
to the soft brown hues
of your hair beneath sunlight,
when your best friend
was down the hall to the right,
and those
full of laughter
as campfire sparks
singed my hair, secret
where the rumble of your voice
sung in my ear and
your intoxicated bedroom eyes-
I touch your scar and remember
not all scars can be seen, but
the beat of your heart
against my bare skin reminds me
we are not broken souls beneath
twilight stars, but
one soul beating with a singular heart
awaiting the oncoming dawn
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