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your mind

when I reached for my phone

you thought I wasn’t listening

but little did you know

I was writing down your words

so I could read them later

over and over and over

so I could take them with me

everywhere I wander

so I can feel happy

when i’m already happy

and cry while i’m already crying

about something else

when you are devastated

you still remember you’re lucky

when you’re worried about death

you’re looking forward to your next breath

when you look at yourself in the mirror

you see your scars as a warrior

when you hate something so much

it amplifies the things you love

so forever, when i’m feeling broken

i’ll remember these words you’ve spoken

and at least if I can’t have your mind

I’ll have a few pieces you left behind

-bree

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“hi”

in my dreams

it’s been 5 years

since i’ve seen you

but in reality

it’s been less than a month

and I wish it was better in my dreams

but it’s not

i’m still the same

and so are you

-bree

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“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”

― Jamie Anderson

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one way street

would you look

both ways

would you consider

more than two colors

could you forgive

your version of sin

could you forget

remembering that shit

should the world fold

and do what it’s told

should we stoop to the devil

that you call your level

is the reason i’m gay

because i’m not okay

is the personality I posess

forever a work in progress

are the tears I feel coming

from thoughts i’ve been suppressing

are the positive parts of reality

the blind spots we cannot see clearly

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mine, ours, theirs

if it was your last day

I would make it mine

I would give you mine

the better part of mine

and trade you

my everything

all the positive energy

and give you time

to live all your

dreams and time

and fantasies

you desire

take it from me

it’s better lived

through you

instead of me

i’m just a capsule

of time on this planet

we call ours

but really it’s

time

and the hard reality

of crime and hatred

that we have to either fight

or pretend it is not there

but our air

cannot define

the life we live

we can choose

if we want to mix

or stay in the comfort

that maybe someday

someone will hear us

and be loud enough

that no one has a choice

but to fall in love

with the perfect world

where I am yours

you are mine

and they are ours

and we

are all a part

of each other

that is when

we finally understand

how to love

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???

did you really believe

you were setting me free

i’m going to die loving someone

who will never love me

-bree

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blip

it’s important to remember

how lucky people are

to talk to you

to know your mind

after all

there is only one of you

in this entire world

and blip of time

-bree

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Sun And Moon

If my light goes out,

Will you search the stars for another Sun?

And when you leave

Please take The Moon.

Keep a part of me.

For you’re my world and you’ll always be.

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Pikachu

The spark was just right

On a night we never knew

And you can’t be my light

But I’ll always choose you

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holy father

it’s crazy that

your holy father

could tell me more about me

than you can

is that what they meant

when they said He was jealous

for me

the more you know

the more you don’t want it

but He, knows it all

lucky you I guess

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My therapist once told me, “You are the guiltiest feeling person I’ve ever met” and just to prove her right, I took it to heart. An astrologer said, “You have so much water in your chart. What is it like to feel the emotions of every single person alive, everyday?” and I wept because I sensed he was displeased. A teacher told my parents “She’s very sensitive. Far more than the other kids in her class.” I took my SATs at 9 years old, but they encouraged my mother to hold me back because of how my eyes glistened when I heard the word no. She told them to go to hell. So I cried my way through my education until high school when they said “You take everything so personally, you’ll never survive in a company environment. You wouldn’t make a good employee.” So I employed myself (out of spite or…necessity) and then later, I hired 200 people. A boyfriend told me “Don’t be so dramatic, everything isn’t a movie.” Fine, so it’ll be an album then. The doctor said “This shouldn’t hurt a bit.” I tread daily on a minefield that leaves me classifying the variations in footsteps, the tonality in voice, a change in breath. “Is everything okay? You seem mad” is my pledge of allegiance to this tightly wound bundle of flesh. I am cut open, butterflied and flayed, with every single nerve exposed like live wires and, yes, they all hurt to touch. Each interaction is a litmus test of how well liked I am, and therefore how worthy to live. I wake up every morning and the moral barometer resets, T-minus 12 hours to prove to myself that I am not the bad person I believe I must be. Sleep, repeat. An amnesiac nightmare. Prometheus on a rock and the gull in my guts is myself. I once envied those with greater armor, but not anymore. “Why do you care so much?” Guard yourself from the little grievances, but the shield does not differentiate. The space where I am vulnerable to the pain that passes through is an entry point for the microscopic good that others may miss. I live in technicolor torment. If I could do it over again and choose the comfortable grey, I would seize a knife and cut the little keyholes back into my every limb. So the light can get in.

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choice

sometimes

I want to take up so much space

that no one can see me

sometimes

I want to scream so loud

that no one can hear me

that way

I’d know they aren’t ignoring me

by choice