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Some days, my mind will still be in prison, but I will live in spite of it. I unlearn how to swim; I trade my gills for lungs and wings.

Stephanie Briar

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Our memories lurch to a reluctant halt in their funeral march, so I can pour salt over them one last time.
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Death Funeral Memories Oneself Time
We weren’t written in the stars; all that glitters wasn’t ours.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Ourselves Stars Writing
I am a phoenix living in a culture of vultures.
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Culture Live Myself
It quietly stops my breath to realize that my greatest grand gesture, my last, best act of love was to let you go.
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Love me until oblivion paints your portraits on my eyelids, sinking by eons into distance that never separates us.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Distance Eyes Love Myself Painting Portrait Relationship Separate
Last night, I sent you home with a kiss and a promise. I hope you still believe in roses.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Believe Home Hope Kiss Myself Night Promise Rose Yourself
In my dreams you conjure me like a spell in the night. Let us haunt one another with uneasy peace, and die burning alive.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Alive Burn Death Dreams Easy Haunt Myself Night Peace
The glint of mischief in your eyes is the flint in my matchstick. Striking; always this close to igniting.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Eyes Ignition Mischief Myself Relationship
Can hope bloom in the shade? Can time give back what it takes away? I once saw the answers to life in your eyes; now I can remember the words to goodbye.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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The pain of your memory is sharp enough to be felt the nails raked along my back by somebody else.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Enough Memories Myself Pain Yourself
I was looking for you in all the places our love used to be. When all along I should have been looking for me.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Lost Love Myself Place Relationship Seek Yourself
To the oppressed with no seat on the table; dreaming of change and better days, I will pull up a chair, and light fires in your name.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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The stars are where we came from. They orchestrated our return to the place we can always come home: our ancient, timeless love.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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I count the stars from whence we came. I name them all for you; my flame.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

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Stop accepting abstract noun love. Real love is always action verb.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Acceptance Action Difference Literature Love Self Love Stop
Poetry? That’s easy. I just cut the vein, and let it bleed.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Blood Easy Myself Poetry

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