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I love how
Paint chips off the
Walls of this house
And how my sneakers
Are dirtied,
Maybe even torn at the edges
With their laces in fringed bouquets
Or how
My friendship bracelets are tarnished
And my books have coffee-stained, tampered pages
And I don't mind you
Bruised
Or scratched,
Speckled with flaws,
With wrinkles when you smile
Or your childhood memory's scars
Or the dark circles under your eyes
Or your rough hands
Because
You've been worked to the bone
And
There is nothing more beautiful than something that has served it's purpose.
What makes people beautiful isn't what they would normally think.
 Jul 2014 Sofia Paderes
brooke
i'm glad you passed that
stage, where changing your
name could have given you
a different outlook but ultimately
let you split your personality, maybe
you've returned to your body and picked
up your bones, decided that you can only
have that skin, maybe you'll fall in love
maybe you'll fall in love,
maybe you'll fall in love
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Jul 2014 Sofia Paderes
brooke
well did he
love boys
when he
was with
me?
(c) Brooke Otto 2014

10 words.
 Jul 2014 Sofia Paderes
brooke
let me find a lover
in the winter, let that
lover find me, let those
cogs twist beneath the
earth and set events in
motion, light a fire beneath
his chair that sends him cross-
ways here, on a train with my
name, burning charcoal for my sake
god, i know you know me better
i'm waiting at the station,
i'm waiting at the station.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
my soul was hibernating
until gently roused by Your love
 Jul 2014 Sofia Paderes
Julia
You
 Jul 2014 Sofia Paderes
Julia
You
This poem
I think to myself
as my shaking hand takes to the page,
Will be about the day my father left,
my first day of college,
or even the way my hands shake when I write.*
I write six words,
scratch out seven more,
and continue until I notice
i'm left with
a sloppy "i
           still  
    need
        you."
(again).


even when my poems aren't about you, they're about you.
You
You are the hurricane in my chest
That can't seem to move along.
Your winds
Mess with the way my heart beats
But I wouldn't want it
To pump your love any way else.

You are that
Stirring
Flicking
Killing feeling at the pit of my stomach.
But I would
starve,
Deprive myself
of the most delectable words
If it meant keeping these butterflies forever.

You are the fallen eyelash
On my eyeball.
I can see you.
I can feel you.
With the slightest movement,
I know where you are.
But I can't seem to get you out
And the more I try,
The more it hurts,
The more I convince myself
To let you stay.
 Jul 2014 Sofia Paderes
brooke
how long did I love you?
yesterday Chuck just said
stop,  because I told him
about that green trellis dream
and the one where I chased you
through Nepal, and he leaned in
close and smiled at me the way
he does when he's about to cry
and told me to let go, just


let



go



















so i did.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
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