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 Jul 2015 erin
MoVitaLuna
He says he loves you and you feel a surge of euphoria. You feel like water that's just been brought to a boil. You feel everything all at once and you feel it violently churn like the ocean inside you. You feel so much that you might burst if you felt anymore. Your legs tremble under the weight of it all. He sees your passion in the way you look at him like he's forest, like he's sunset, like he's mountain. He feels your panic in the way your hands touch him like he's lightning, the way they clutch him like he's lifeline. He squeezes you gently and you realize you've been holding your breath. The words escape your lips in an exhale and you know right then and there that nothing will ever be the same again.
i love him i love him i love him
 Jul 2015 erin
Audrey Gleason
from my window i can see our cloud
it is full of rain but frantically
running through the sky as if fire was after it
as if fire
beats water
if you think about the sun
you remember that it's made of fire
we forget that the sun is just another star
that offered to give us autographs
every summer on our skin
oh! sweet summertime,
splashing in ocean waves
or a five minute thunderstorm
i raise my smile to the sky and salute the clouds
whispering a reminder through the wind that the sun is nothing to be afraid of
or worshiped
it's just there, it's like all of us
we're just here
and i think the fact that we don't fall off the planet
even though we're sticking off of it sideways
is proof enough that we're doing just fine here
 Jul 2015 erin
brooke
This poem is called text her back because
I'm not sure why I reached out to befriend
you, but you taught me how to swing dance
beneath the lone concert awning in the middle
of Veteran's park at 9:00 pm.  Is that how they
do it in Texas? The niceties of i-don't-quite-know-you
and I'm avoiding telling you my age because I'm
worried I'm such a baby.

This poem is called text her back because I thought
calling you a blessing was a bit of a stretch for we've-
only-known-each-other-for-a-week, I don't know the
details, drowned out in nuances,
afraid of "I'm sorry, you
thought differently,
it was just a
dance."
(c) Brooke Otto 2015

I'm afraid of being called a child.
Silly girls with their silly ideas.
 Jul 2015 erin
brooke
tell god, 'look....words'
really      good       thing
away. trying. h o m e
beneath used face
water wasn't kind
fingers...long nights
life wanted house
head tried, **does
(c) Brooke Otto 2015

hello poetry keeps track of words you use, here are the ones
I have used most, in order.
 Jun 2015 erin
brooke
I'm tired of asking you to kiss me.

I'm tired of asking you to kiss me,
with this impatience that sustains
me, an appetite for romance that
is more fragile than the feelings
I barely have for you, after all,
chasing a single spark is hopeless
because they're lost as quickly as
they leave the flame. When was the
last time something felt right?
When something felt right?
The last time something felt
complete because it had run
f  u  l  l   c  i  r  c  l  e, when I was
comfortable being touched
or touching     I hardly remember
a time before this where something
wasn't rushed because i am a habitual
rusher, kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.
(c) Brooke Otto 2015


i'm trying to wait.
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