brooke burris
hot flow
don’t sweat the small stuff.
sweat.
it.
out.
drop– to the floor.
maneuver into a pigeon…
s u r r e n d e r.
bring your hands to your heart
close your eyes
shed everything holding you back
like it’s nothing but old skin you’ve outgrown
breathe deep and start over.
reset.
for once i’d like to try falling asleep
without the dryer warmed blanket
using only my heart to keep me warm
i’d discard the older-than-my-adulthood tee and shorts
for matching feminine silk pajamas
i won’t need white noise
i’ll rest without the echo of my anxiety
darkness would swallow me up
but not in the way i feared as a child
i’d like to wake to gentle sunlight and birdsong
what would that girl be like?
she’s nothing like me….
pillowtalk (to myself)
this poem isn’t about sex
but it could be.
steady hands
peel me apart
like the last bit of an orange peel
this is something bright,
new
we found a place
where the floorboards don’t creak.
the walls won’t close in on us here.
with that weight ripped off my chest
i can curl into you again
and call this feeling home.
Brooke Burris is a high school Marketing teacher by day and a poet by heart. She has been writing poetry since 2022, though she likes to think she’s always been a writer—She just hadn’t found the words yet.
Her work has appeared in the anthology Campfire Confessions, and she self-published a collection titled In a Field of Flowers in 2023 with her best friend. Most recently, her poems have been accepted by Gypsophila Magazine and The Persimmon Review. Outside the classroom, she spends my time reading, writing, learning guitar, and finding inspiration outdoors.