Archive for the ‘BritniL’ Category

Tell Me Why?

Posted: March 15, 2011 by britnimishelowe in BritniL

They tell me she’s going to die…

I tell them no.

They turn away and leave me to my mother and the beeping sound that drowns out my tears.

They tell me she’s not going to make it…

I tell them their wrong.

They let me hold her cold hand for five more minutes.

(She smiles at me with her misty blue eyes,she’s smiling!)

They tell me I need to let her go…

I scream at them and tell them to leave me be…

But they don’t.

They drag me away from her…

How could they let this happen?

I start to cry,

I can’t take this!

She was all I had…

Why can’t they see that?

I want to trade her places…

I want to be the one gasping for my last breath.

Daddy hides his face in his hands,

He doesn’t want me to see him crying.

He just lost his mammaw and I am making this about me…

But I miss her already.

All I can do is sit back and fall apart.

Daddy’s Hands

Posted: March 15, 2011 by britnimishelowe in BritniL

There’s oil stains that slide in the cracks of Daddy’s hands

black smudges that no matter how many times he washes them-it will not come off.

The cracks are dry causing him to rub them together in pain-but he dares to complain.

But ther”s also something different

Something soft in those stained-cracked hands.

The way they feel like satin on a warm day against your cold wet cheek.

So light and smooth.

There’s something warm about them…

While taking mom’s fragile hands in his.

The way he holds onto her,

the way he’s so careful with her as if she might break.

Daddy’s hands go deep, if you take a second to study them you would understand…

There’s a strong,loving man…

Behind Daddy’s hands.

Confusion.

Posted: March 15, 2011 by britnimishelowe in BritniL

With this kiss of fire I thee wed

My heart is aching-destroyed

Wrenching,it has bled

I understand not,the making of the sun

And to tell you the truth,

I feel I’ve won.

What is the prize for conquering death?

You tell me to speak-but steal my breath?

So here I stand

Broken and Alone

You hold my heart

Kicking it to make it restart.

An abandoned child

M life has been taken.

Oh my dear love,

my soul you’ve shaken.

With this kiss of fire I thee wed

With this paper of eternal damnation

I take you completely.

I take you as my own.

With this kiss of fire I thee wed.


Happily Dreaming of After

Posted: March 15, 2011 by britnimishelowe in BritniL

Mom use to hold me

her eyes filled with amusement.

Beauty an the Beast laying on my lap,

as she’d change Belle’s name to mine.

I adored her,

falling asleep in her arms.

Time goes by fast

like a flame touching a dry piece of paper.

Life changes

before your uwilling eyes

and no matter how many times yo pray to go back

-it doesn’t work.

It can not.

Never did I think that she would fall

never did I want to see her cry.

But I did, she did.

Mom use to hold me

it’s funny how we’ve switched positions

Funny in a sad way

No humor in it at all.

Just hurt.

Pain.

Sadness.

My eyes are sore from crying

she tells me to hold onto mychildhood

I don’t think I want to.

I just want to find a cure

and with her hand run away

from life

into the unknown where she doesn’t hurt.

Where she can laugh without holding er side.

where she can smile with happy tears

spilling from her eyes.

Where she is holding me

blue eyes radiating with love

whispering,

“and they lived happily ever after, goodnight my angel.”

Where she is safe…

Hatred

Posted: March 8, 2011 by britnimishelowe in BritniL

Hate is the feeling you get when looking into someone’s deep brown eyes

Wanting to do nothing more than leave them

To watch them fall

To watch them cry…

-But something keeps you standing there looking into his eyes searching for a soul.

Hate is the burning feel you get when hearing his voice

The butterflies being torched

Being destroyed

You feel as they catch fire.

Hate is that long silence on the other end of the phone

That long pause after the word ‘love’

That desperation you feel after his voice lies

Over and Over

Over and Over

But the worst kind of hate is not being able to walk away from him

Hate is when you want to leave him

But you can’t.

The worst kind of hate is love.

Daddy’s Hands

Posted: March 7, 2011 by britnimishelowe in BritniL

There’s oil stains that slide in the cracks of Daddy’s hands

black smudges that no matter how many times he tries to wash them

the stains remain.

The cracks are dry causing him to rub them together in pain-but he never complains.

But there’s something different,

something soft in those cracked hands.

The way they feel on your wet cheeks

like satin on a warm day.

There’s something warm about them

while taking mom’s fragile hands in his.

The way he holds onto her,

the way he’s careful with her

almost as if she might break.

Not many people can understand Daddy’s hands,

the constant rambling and pain.

Not many people get why they spend there time outside,

in the cold

in the heat.

But I do.

I understand.

Mirror Mirror

Posted: December 3, 2010 by britnimishelowe in BritniL

Small child with uncovered bruises,

Waiting on the world to see,

Small child with tear filled eyes,

Why do you look like me?

Young woman with shaking hands,

Screaming for help.

Young woman who can barely stand,

Why do you remind me of when I ran away?

Lady with the blue eyes,

Like an ocean, current going wild.

Lady with a wounded heart,

Why do I feel we can’t depart?

Elderly woman with shattered wings,

Bent down to touch his cheek.

Elderly woman with sad goodbyes,

Why do I feel so weak?

Ice cold glass stands in between us two,

Me staring back at you,

Wrinkles of worry sliding down your cheek,

A tear in your eye,

You feel lost and weak.

We touch the glass,

Both at the same time.

…Elderly woman, You are me!