Brider Olen Aug 2016
Em
I wonder if you were
reading
b e t w e e n  t h e  l i n e s
when I told you to
keep your distance --

when you're painting the air
with your tongue,

your words
dance around the room
and
kiss the pockets of my skin
in a way that
leaves me breathless

and that should be
evidence enough:

all I’m thinking about
is what I want you
to
paint
next
Sondering Jul 3
Oh, human; so many types of you,
I could not fathom my fate if I were to
long so much, work so hard and obtain so little,
facing the sun while
straddling the moon like you do.
You like to be irresistible in every
single, tiny little thing you do, don't you;
from the way you part your lips and smile,
to the way you hold out your rough, aching hands towards me,
planting a tender kiss on my forehead
and asking for my soul in return.
You like to stir up my mind, imploring one thing with me
but then diverging off to explore a
whole entirely different one altogether,
all alone and cold, dripping white glistening
trails of stars all over my arms.
You are always telling me that you need time
to forgive yourself,
to forgive the shards of broken, diamond glass
you pull out of your pockets
and hurl at the ground you tread on,
forgive the blood red roses and green tangled thorns
you wear a top of your head,
blood trickling down curls of ivory hair,
like streaks of winter cherries
flowing down to your shoulders.
They say you like to dance,
stomping all over paradise with
black, jagged leather boots,
and whirling mountains around your fit torso,
gripping the blowing wind
in your arms and forcing it to carry you
as gigantic as you are,
because other things need to
experience oppression too.
Suddenly you are explosively loud when you
claim you're okay/alright,
like those few words hold captive your purpose
of existing beneath the stars,
when all you ever wanted was to be one.
And when you're laughing in your bed,
legs tangled with evergreen whips of dried woven grass,
chest hidden underneath a blanket of cool, violet-blue dawns,
the sight of you is so beautiful and painfully wretched
that I am torn over just laying down with you
or hurdling you off my mountain of life.
If there ever was such a confusion
that loved so passionately, breathed so calmly,
and raged so defiantly
at the mere thought of just existing,
it would be such a creature
as a human.
07/02/18
It's like
I haven't seen you in so long
But even that's a lie.

I've seen your past in pictures
and I've see your present
In Facebook updates.
Seen your new happy
so close to your old sad.

And even when I tear myself
from the screen,
there still remains
the imprint of your face
burned into the inside of my
eyelids, so that
Everytime I want to look at NOTHING,
I see you.

Everytime
I rub my eyes,
or wash my face,
I'm haunted by your look.

When I try to sleep,
I see you staring back.

It's like Everytime I sneeze,
my body wills me into
catching a glimpse of you.

And even when I beat myself into dead slumber,
you burrow through my optic stems, claw into my cortex,
and even sink your teeth into my dreams.  

I wake up, too shaken to scream,
too weak for words, and still,
somehow, I manage to spell your name
on my back and my sheets,
in trickling droplets of sweat.  

You linger in my mind like nuclear fallout.

I tell myself,
Maybe one day
I'll brave Old Chernobyl.
I'll pass by the radioactive signs,
the wise warnings, without fear or worry.
I'll use my coward's camera to capture
preserved pockets of the past, looking,
helplessly, for the secret to having loved you,
and maybe even the secret
to forgetting you.

But even that's a lie.
Mya 5d
The goal was to be loaded
With my pockets now bloated
All my old friends have noted
To something new I'm devoted
And he's more dangerous than the heist
Steam. Overgrown botanical sprawl that dares to clutch the sagging ironwork and crush it, suck the life from its bones. Over the cracked checker-board parquet, roses tangle. Their thorns catch at embroidered skirts and tear sequins from shot-silk dancing slippers. Ripped denim dampens in the misting rain and exotic mosses leave green kisses on the pockets.
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