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 Nov 2013 E
Chris
They forgot to tell you it's not always easy,
that just because the ocean seems so
calm at night
doesn't mean it doesn't ache
for morning.
They forgot to tell you it takes time,
that weeks may feel like hours
and months may feel like years.
That it only grows deeper in patience
and stronger in absence.
They forgot to tell you it speaks louder
in silence than it ever could in words,
that it listens closer when my hands
talk to yours,
that it lives inside your bones,
and not inside your heart.
They forgot to tell you it makes you
weak at the knees,
and strong in the head.
That it can fill every broken crack,
and heal every open wound.
They forgot to tell you it will leave scars.
They forgot to tell you that you can
give it all away without ever having
it given back to you.
They forgot to tell you that is okay.
They forgot to tell you that memories
don't fade away.
They forgot to tell you that it hurts.
They forgot to tell you what it means.
I'm here to tell you that it's worth it.
I'm here to tell you that you're worth it.
 Nov 2013 E
mc
heartbeat (10w)
 Nov 2013 E
mc
my heartbeat
has begun
to sound
just like
your name
 Nov 2013 E
brooke
i still find it strange
(like most others) that
someone so fam
                                         iliar can
suddenly, without much thou   ght
become entirely foreign within an
hour          or
two and then as a couple weeks
go by there is nothing more than
footprints where we used to
                      stand  

side     by     side
and then not
even  
       that
(c)Brooke Otto 2013
 Nov 2013 E
mc
any kind of love
 Nov 2013 E
mc
courtly love
compassionate love
fatuous love
tragic love
romantic love
I'll take any kind of love
over the emptiness
of unrequited love
 Nov 2013 E
brooke
November.
 Nov 2013 E
brooke
slow down,
november
don't let me
live week
by week
(c) Brooke Otto

Growing.
 Nov 2013 E
Julia
"I pick you."
 Nov 2013 E
Julia
I come from a town
where the stop signs are purple,
the children are inquisitive,
and the music is pure.
Melodic lines pursue me
from the places I've come,
with close harmonies, intricate rhythms,
and beautiful women to sing them.
My curls dance with the steel strings
of my favorite guitar as I play
on the corner by the coffee shop,
but I barely notice; for
I finger my favorite
guitar pick necklace,
remember the bow-tied boy
who gave it to me.
The corners of my lips turn up,
remembering
the bow-tied handsome boy
who lives away from
my purple stop sign town,
where the children are inquisitive,
and the music is pure.
 Oct 2013 E
Chris
I’ve gone through uncountable cups of coffee
over the past few months,
but none of them ever quite taste the same
as the first one I’ve had.
Sometimes not enough cream,
other times too much sugar;
always without you
on the other side of the table.
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