A Letter to the Poems I Never Shared

A Letter to the Poems I Never Shared

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

You are not mistakes.

You are lessons learned, risks taken, words unforgotten, thoughts explored but never vocalized.

Just because you were read to an audience of one,

(that one being me)

does not mean you haven't touched a heart or served a purpose.

I don't know if you know this, but sometimes the words left unspoken are the ones most important.

Sometimes words that are locked away, deep in the corners of a persons heart are the ones that are too precious.

So precious that they don't allow anyone else to see them.

No one else will need them the way the author does.

The lines I wrote into you are the ones that I remember best.

You are important. You are not mistakes. I do not regret creating you.

All Rights Reserved

Truths That Need to be Told

Truths That Need to be Told 

A poem by Brigid Cooley

Tear stained pillowcases aren't unheard of and fairytales are improbable at best.

It's okay to break down every once in a while, even if the place you do it is the dine-in area of a Taco Cabana on a Monday night.

Dramatic music doesn't play in the background during important moments in your life, even though that would be a nice touch.

It's okay to not know where you're going.

It's okay to not know where you'll end up.

Life's a stage, but the actors never got the script.

They're all just improvising.

We are all just improvising.

Sometimes people won't hear your silent cries.

It's okay to turn up the volume.

Sometimes, you won't have the energy to turn up the volume.

That's okay too.

All Rights Reserved

Tuesday's

Tuesday's

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

Behind a cloud, lightning strikes.

Outside, it smells like Christmas.

The air is still, the wind is on vacation.

A little girl laughs.

A piano plays, thunder claps.

Mascara runs.

Cars rush by.

A coyote howls at the moon.

And you're not here.

All Rights Reserved

i.

i.

A Poem by Brigid Cooley 

i think in the terms of poetry rhymes and nursery stanzas. 

Someone once told me that i had it backwards;

i responded, "Now you finally understand." 

i like stringing together nothing's in an attempt to formulate something's,

and sometimes

vice 

 versa. 

It is hard to be a keeper of words. 

secretly, i hate my voice, 

but every night i sing myself a lullaby.

It's difficult to sing when you want to cry but i do it anyways. 

Because, if i didn't sing for me then who would?

Red lipstick makes me feel pretty. 

Once i realized that raindrops were really just tears falling from angel eyes, 

somehow, that was enough for me.

If i had a dime for every time i really let myself go, 

i'd have exactly forty-five cents.

Someone save our sincerity.

i won't make change for a dollar.

He taught me that Levi's have pockets full of metaphors.

i've never had a reason to smoke before,

but now i puff smoke signals into the atmosphere.

"Now you finally understand."

All Rights Reserved

Books By Ally Carter

Books by Ally Carter 

A Poem by Brigid Cooley 

During the summer, I bought 12 new books. 

I only read two of them. 

I do realize that it's because I'm afraid of new places. 

Today I looked at my bookshelf, trying to find a story to lose myself in, 

And I picked one that I've read at least 5 times. 

Its pages have given me paper cuts time and time again,

But the sting it leaves is familiar, so I grip the pages carelessly. 

Go ahead and cut me.

At least I know the wounds you leave me will heal. 

On rainy days, I bury myself in the corners of your binding. 

It's warm there, and I've always loved the beach. 

You're safe. 

I know the rhythm of your voice like I know the lyrics to the songs we screamed together when we were 11. 

You're not good for me,

But at least I know that. 

At least I'm not guessing. 

All Rights Reserved

Fingerprints

Fingerprints 

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

Have you found yourself in my poems yet? 

You're everywhere, like fingerprints all over a crime scene. 

When I reread my words, I just hear your name pounding in my head. 

Did you know that you have a distinct rhythm? 

One that is uniquely yours.

No one else makes my heart beat the way you do. 

All Rights Reserved 

Someday

Someday 

A Poem by Brigid Cooley

I hope that someday,

While you're brushing your teeth and listening to the radio, 

A song comes on that makes you think of me. 

I hope that you hear my voice in the chord progressions.

I hope you stop for a moment and think back on all the moments we've shared, 

Even the seemingly insignificant ones. 

I hope that you look up at your mirror and, 

For a moment, 

Wish that I was there, 

looking back at you. 

I hope that someday, you aren't just my Someday. 

All Rights Reserved