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Brennawrites
Poetry
113 Posts • 43 Followers • 9 Following
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Cover image for post ablaze, by Brennawrites
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Brennawrites

ablaze

sometimes

i'm on fire

and

sometimes

i burn

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Brennawrites

companion

i can see myself scattered in your brain and i'm conscious of myself coursing through your body and i think that's what it feels like when souls connect.

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Brennawrites

matches in the junk drawer

all of the whispered secrets, admitted over alcohol in the absense of your lover; what if we spoke them all out loud?

darling, we could light the world. and in darkness, be the flame that only dreamers dream about.

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Brennawrites

Chicago

i missed you, you know.

fire on my lips.

a lover returned from a business trip.

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Brennawrites

Liquid fix.

i have the same problem as you.

but i wanted to be your cure.

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Brennawrites

messy, it’s always messy.

the truth of it is that it's all fucking chaos.

life. love. and everything in between.

Cover image for post my apology, by Brennawrites
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Brennawrites

my apology

i'm sorry for what i did

when you drove me

fucking

crazy.

except

you

will never hear those words

out loud

darling,

you don't deserve it.

but i do deserve to forgive myself.

Cover image for post Sarcasm and a shovel, by Brennawrites
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Brennawrites

Sarcasm and a shovel

i think a lot about my dad who taught me how to build the strongest walls; that constructing a stone face would convey my fortitude and power; that weakness was the gasoline that made the world go up in flames. i learned to be a jerk instead of getting hurt, and now i understand why i always fall for assholes.

i learned to love a man who did not want to touch my feelings, let alone his own; i held in high regard the man who had no idea how to. i crave approval from the person who never wants to see me struggle, since sarcasm and a shovel can bury any chance i might. and i'm addicted to the way we both pretend that nothing hurts. we've built a tall and sturdy fortress around our piles of upturned dirt.

what my father never taught me was how to take these stone walls down. nor have i ever learned the way to burn my lover's to the ground.

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Brennawrites

undressing

i've been making up this love between us. i've crafted it from scratch, stitching together every crooked smile with the line i thought i could hook you on. i should admit i'll never see you again. i should decide that i don't even want to. but it's always the loves like this that tear me up the most. it's the ones i never had. i will never call you mine and i never really could.

and yet i keep you tucked tightly inside my pocket. out of sight and out of mind, but everyone knows i'm kidding myself. i can't forget that you're still there. i can feel you burning a hole through the denim and sinking straight into my blood. you're coursing through my body, pumping strong into my heart; my already-broken-heart.

i've never been good at giving things up. what if i need you again? what if you ever admit you want me the way that i want you?

why do i even want you to?

i hope some day i find these jeans crumpled and dirty in the back corner of my closet. i hope that i reach into this ripped back pocket to discover that i lost you somewhere along the way. and i hope when that day comes i won't even think of shedding a tear. i hope by then, losing you won't feel like a loss at all. i hope i'll be able to say i never really loved you anyway. i hope that i concede i am happy to be rid of you. i do not need to keep you. you never needed me.

i should take these jeans off right now and this time, not for you. i should strip every trace of you off of me and promise to never even try to pick you up again.

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Brennawrites

Waking up in Vegas

i am

still

hungover

three days later,

but the liquor

has nothing to do with it.

my misery

comes from

only

you

and all i want to do

is be

drunk

again.

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