I lay thinking of your lips at night,

so full upon your face,

when I’m alone in bed.

My cheeks are flushing red.

I wonder how they would feel,

crashing against mine,

like waves on a shore.

God how I want more.

Will your tongue taste of honey,

as it seeps into my mouth,

and collides with mine?

Shivers down my spine.

Will your hands stay busy as they

rest upon my neck,

your fingers tangled in my hair?

I close my eyes as if in prayer.

I think of all of this and more,

staring into the dark,

wondering if you think the same.

Wondering if you chant my name.

by Brianna Magner

Hi there, I’m Bri! I’ve always felt like I didn’t quite fit in throughout my life, as if I wasn’t meant to be defined or labeled or be put into a box. When I started writing, whether poetry or prose, I found it pouring out of me into rhyme schemes and well-versed metaphors and alluring alliteration. My life is sometimes messy and complicating, but it’s mine. Welcome to the poetry of a moth. x


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