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Mar 20 · 177
Untitled
Brianna Sich Mar 20
Tucked into your arms.
My heart sighs
and then softens.
Settling in to rest.
Home at last.
Mar 18 · 29
Just Friends
Brianna Sich Mar 18
How could ever sit across from you with a coffee and watch you look at me with those eyes? The ones that see me, past everything else. The ones where time slips away and everyone else in the room disappears. Where we fall into our own personal secret bliss. The ones who knew me before they really knew me. The ones that scan me gently and remind me I am the delicate thing I yearn to be. Eyes staring down at me from above filled with tenderness and awe. Eyes tracking my movement across a room, studying me, committing every inch of me to memory. Those eyes that crease and close when you laugh at my jokes. Eyes lingering ever on mine just a little too long that say, "you are mine."

Watch you smile at me as we catch up on life? With those lips that whispered light kisses across my body. Murmurs of professed love pressed into my ear lobe. In sync sighs of satisfaction and contentment. That grin, smiling down at me, teeth just peaking over the edge. Those teeth grazing and nipping. Claiming me and saying "you are mine."

How could I watch you pick up your drink with those hands. And not feel the ghost of every fingertip ran across my skin. A thumbstroke across my thigh under the bar table. A firm grip on my wrist checking my pulse for signs I am alive, that I am real. Catching my chin and cupping my cheek, tucking my hair behind my ear. Hands that claim me and say, "you are mine."

We would hug goodbye.
And we would go our separate ways.
Inside I would scream
I am yours.
We cannot be friends.
Mar 14 · 103
Secret
Brianna Sich Mar 14
You asked for my biggest secret. I later told you that I look like my father. That is not my biggest secret, but it approaches the truth. I have his hazel eyes. He's the reason that I can carry a note. The smirk on my face belongs to him.

I wear it shamefully as my mother always told me she hated that I inherited his mannerisms. What I know that she does not, is that I inherited worse.

I call my biggest secret my "father's rage."

I can see my father's rage in those hazel eyes, pooling around my pupils. I can hear it in the notes I sing, an airy whisper from my lungs. I can see it when I turn to the mirror and scowl back at his face.
The truth is I carry my father's rage like a trapped scream in the back of my throat. A festering wound that does not scab over. Bubbling under the surface of my skin.

I plead with myself every day
to try to keep it at bay. Control the pain, control what I say.

Protect my children from the fate of inheriting my father's rage.
Dec 2020 · 166
Palms
Brianna Sich Dec 2020
I cannot hold in my palms

How many times

You've placed self doubt there
Sep 2020 · 83
Untitled
Brianna Sich Sep 2020
all planes are you
Aug 2020 · 115
Untitled
Brianna Sich Aug 2020
I never want to forget the way the curve in your back feels under my fingertips.

The way the skin on your shoulders feel beneath my lips.
Apr 2019 · 313
When she's angry
Brianna Sich Apr 2019
When she's angry
folding a towel becomes
an undertaking that causes everyone in the room
To flinch each time a fold is made

her movements are pointed
sharp
like a needle
used to embroider the word
failure on your forehead
like a scarlet letter

When she's angry
you'll never see it coming
until
the pigmentation in her neck
slowly creeps
from ivory
to a shining crimson
piece of armor
preparing her for battle
preparing her to unleash
her barbed tongue

When she's angry
you tip-toe around
what you truly want to say
dancing on glass
shard in foot
you smile as if
you don't notice

When she's angry
I love you
comes out as
a bee sting
you may experience
swelling at the site
instant, sharp pain
and a welt where your heart
should be
When she's angry
Mar 2019 · 675
saturday mornings
Brianna Sich Mar 2019
I awoke
folded up like a purposeful piece of origami
placed delicately between two bodies.

Happiness
Dec 2018 · 245
Decorations
Brianna Sich Dec 2018
Sometimes
it's hard
to stop and notice
the things around you.

My son tilts his head
up to the sky
and announces,
"mom
the clouds
are decorations!"

The clouds
indeed
decorated the sweet
morning sunrise.

Peppered in
nonsense patterns.
For you and I
to marvel at.

Decorations.
What wonder
to see life
through your eyes.
Nov 2018 · 248
Good morning.
Brianna Sich Nov 2018
A good morning
Is feeling your
Small sticky hand
Wrap around two of my fingers
Telling me you missed me while you slept.
May 2018 · 318
summertime
Brianna Sich May 2018
your love is like sun kissed skin in june
like the smell of sunscreen and the pool
like the glow of the green, green grass.

your love is like gentle kisses brushing my freckles
like learning the ukulele, joyful and bright
like perfect toothy smiles.
like long sunny bike rides.

loving you is like embracing summer.
May 2018 · 206
Hands
Brianna Sich May 2018
I've always found hands
                              to be an attractive feature.
                                                        ­            Long and slender.
                                                        ­                                  Gentle and tender.
Rough and overworked.
                                        Exploratory; searching.
                                                      ­                      A place of comfort.
Or
           Grasping.
                            strangling
                                              the life out of  
                                                                      my heart.
May 2018 · 830
...
Brianna Sich May 2018
...
Strength is a fragile, fragile thing.

One minute.
I'm a warrior.
Sword drawn,
***** face in tow.

The next
I am putty
in your palms.
Transformed to tears.
May 2018 · 188
Untitled
Brianna Sich May 2018
I stopped writing pretty words for you.
Now I cry instead.
Dec 2017 · 175
In the middle
Brianna Sich Dec 2017
What are you putting on?  Speed Stick Ocean Breeze I say. Old Spice anything is better he says.

Over the next two months I take care to put on his deodorant because Old Spice anything is better.
Dec 2017 · 246
Pick up your phone
Brianna Sich Dec 2017
if you called me right now
would I even answer?
do i know better?

the thought of listening to your
sweet honey voice
makes my body tremble.
knees weak
heart beat
nauseous.

i don't.
i would answer.

i would hold my breath.
clench my jaw so tight.
knuckles white.
smile through the phone,
pretend that i'm alive


i'm just not strong
enough
to resist you
today
or
ever.
please call me, please.
Dec 2017 · 422
It will happen
Brianna Sich Dec 2017
When the tears finally fall.

They will fall harder than any
summer rain I have ever danced in.

They will roll like rivers
down my face.
I will fall into those raging rivers
pouring from my eyes
and gasp for air as I begin to drown.
in the overwhelming feeling
that we
made a mistake.

I will swim to the surface
and cry out
for you .
But I won't be able to
hear you over the
cracking thunder
of my
thoughts.

They will fall harder
than I did for you

yes

The tears will inevitably fall.
But only
after I have convinced myself
that I no longer love you.
no longer need you.
But I do.
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