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Poetry? That’s easy. I just cut the vein, and let it bleed.

Stephanie Briar

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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
Our memories lurch to a reluctant halt in their funeral march, so I can pour salt over them one last time.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Death Funeral Memories Oneself Time
He’ll keep some daying and tommorwing until he has no tomorrows left. I don’t choose that.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Choice Himself Relationship Self Love
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
Standing in your power scares a lot of people. You become something formidable, intimating, and aspirational all at once.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Aspiration People Power Scare Self Love Stand Yourself
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

Bloom Eyes Hope Life Lost Myself Philosophy Relationship Remember Return Time Word
I erected cities with adoration on my tongue and you burnt mine down in the wake of your love.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Admire Burn Love Myself Tongue Yourself
Light finds you just as I once did: an accident that is no accident.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Accident Hope Light Myself
Emotion = Energy in motion.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Emotion Energy Motion One Liner Philosophy
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
As if flesh and skin and hands are any match for bullets. As if bones won’t crack in hails of powder and lead. As if rivers of blood are not the direct result of trigger fingers that bend but do not break on “bad days”.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Bad Blood Bone Break Day Direction Fingers Leadership Power Result River Skin
Stop accepting abstract noun love. Real love is always action verb.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Acceptance Action Difference Literature Love Self Love Stop
Your darkness does not scare me, nor will I run from you; like a star, I’m falling for the phases of your moon.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Darkness Fall Moon Myself Run Scare Stars Yourself
Creatives are neither born nor created. They are activated.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Activate Born Creation Creativity
I would throw down roots with you if I ever had the chance. We’d grow strong in tender shoots, and bloom in burning hands.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Burn Chance Growth Hands Myself Strong
Poetry? That’s easy. I just cut the vein, and let it bleed.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Blood Easy Myself Poetry

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