#erin brill

[best-character-named-x-poll]

[dithorba]

I love you Erin Brill

[zieeeeegler]

part 3 of being a melancholy lunatic;

Virginia Avenue

I am a fool with too many feelings.

[onlyfifteenpercent]

[kiraalexander]

I can’t wait for Viola Goto and Erin Brill’s meet cute, but can their romance survive the three day knock down drag out screaming argument over whether to put one space after a period or two?

[artlung]

Jessie Ennis as Erin Brill

[bettercallsaulamc]

Party poopers.

[margoisokay-blog]

I've been waiting on the tip of an iceberg,

                        She said

Waiting for the moon to explain his love for the skyline's curve around her old tea kettle

She told him its not about the crooked money

                                    And he said he can't feed a family with a career that makes him happy

                        Or plastic silverware and microwavable shoes

                        Or the old velvet highchair sitting in their dumpster

But when the horizon bent around the steam of her teabag

            And she watched silently a fist and a cry and an empty baby's crib

                                    She took off sprinting for the paper Mache orbit

The atmosphere slipped a corsage around her wrist

                        She bent down as they honored her with a sash

                                                A star slipped in through her cracked lips,

                                                            Exfoliated her skin and scrubbed at her misery

                                    Memories

Of hard winters and unwashed socks and empty clotheslines and the cold spot next to her in bed

                                                An empty bedroom down the hall painted yellow

                        Pink comets clawed fruitlessly at the edge of her skirt

Gnashing up with jagged molars the last of her satin memorial

            She took the clippings of a spring robins wings

And glued them to the insides of her eyelids.

So when she closed them, she remembered what cement sidewalks felt like on bare feet during their morning strolls. And the way cheap wine always tasted delicious when she was in her kitchen with good friends. Satin nosebleeds. Coral bed sheets. Flaming notebooks of things half-learned. Roasting ivory coffee and underwater picnics.

  He told her its easy to lose yourself after something like this

                        But an empty stroller and a parade at dusk?

She wanted to soar with the moon dust and cradle cheap meteors' extensions.

            He placed a soft teddy bear in her arms

It's easy to forget what's real

But the speckled rings of Jupiter felt more alive than the awkward toast crust at breakfast

Pearls of the atmosphere, carved out of by her fingernails, floated softly into their bedroom

            There she said there there they are, my baby is here and the moon is spilling tubs of bathwater into my bedroom and we will drown in the empathy of the sun's cosmic strawberries and our 1990 wedding photos.

            And he shook his head, closed the windowpane to put an end to the downpour of the sky, the influx of the celestial barrage and said goodnight.

[bettercallsaulamc]

Keep your eye on Jimmy.

[margoisokay-blog]

A candy wrapper will

Signed at the bottom with sugar and anchored glass flowers

Notebooks from old classrooms scattered across your floor, ripped handwriting

You didn't study for the exams and I wept when your mother took all of her clothes out of the drawers and left picture frames empty.

How sleeting wind forced dollar bills to bleed from my pocket

And I scraped up a piece of the asphalt from your driveway and molded it into a ball so it could sit on the rickety shelf above my desk

The hole in the asphalt slit your tires and you blamed it on your mom for leaving

I read the book you recommended but it wasn't that good. It left a sour taste underneath my tongue and no matter how much lemonade I bought for a quarter from the little kids at the corner of my street, the sour taste couldn't be matched.

It was the hot summer days rolling away like cookie dough that made me think of the time I found a twig in your mom's salad but I didn't say anything because I wanted her to like me

She didn't like me anyway

You broke her favorite glass jar in front of me, cracked it right up the side and she took the dog for a walk so she wouldn't embarrass herself with her catatonic screams.

Embarrassment crossed his harms and still sat in your living room by the Christmas tree

Polaroid's of valuable dandelion seeds and shiny road kill, its what I hung on your dashboard when you couldn't sign your will.

I sewed your eyelids shut and told you to picture our cotton candy cottage together. I told you about the enormous flowers in the front garden and the sprinklers our kids are running through and the smell of your happiness coming from the pot on the stove. You told me it didn't exist.

You didn't see it behind your eyelids

I think its because your mother forgot what its like to love a child. And how we never really grow out of that innate need to be held by our parents one more time, the stroking of the hair, the quiet kiss on the forehead they stop giving before bed when you turn ten.

For your sixteenth birthday I gave you my virginity. Your mom gave you an empty house and a hole in your asphalt driveway and a goodbye that reeked with the feeling of empty pillowcases and a fly on your food.

I hope you liked my present more.

But somehow I don't think you remember that birthday because of the tissues that piled up and the way your dad wouldn't leave his bedroom.​

[margoisokay-blog]

I never did tell anyone I was in love with my boss

  Yesterday was really cold outside,

Wind whipped my face and snow stung my eyelashes like bees. it reminded me of the icy tone I spat at you when I told you I had to go

Its what normal people do, I said, what everyone does, what people expect of me

"okay" you answered, like icicles dripping from your tongue.

You told me I was always welcome back. I heard it with a bitter edge, like a sugar coated razorblade. The words were nice, the emotions raw.

But I never would have thought you would disappear.

I brought you back a Syracuse sweatshirt.

I remember you telling me it was your favorite team while we danced and I mopped and you swept and I dreamt about kissing you. Maybe you dreamt about kissing me back. But I know my dreams meant more. My illusions, mysterious and ardent whims. My moments where you touched me, I wrapped them tightly in my hands, clenched them in my fists and shoved them in my pockets, warm and safe. I think you just threw them away with the rest of the trash.

I tried to give you your present when I got back but you were sleeping at your desk. Face pale, eyes concealed by dark circles, yellowing teeth like you belonged in an old age home. You reeked of

hopelessness.

I shook your shoulder gently, the exact way I would have shook it if we had ever made love and I needed to wake you the next morning for eggs and toast.

You sang, quietly, to yourself, as if you weren't positive this was reality but perhaps a muggy dream, a secret world entirely your own.

"This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine."

I could feel your dark, dark, demons escaping, squeezing out of your eyes and your ears and your mouth and nose, prancing onto the desk, holding hands and circling your head, dancing, singing along with you. "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine"

Don't wake him a coworker told me. He's recovering they all said.

When I asked from what the question hung around, stinking up the back room with a putrid odor, almost like a lingering bad habit.

You slept right through the lunch rush. I left the sweatshirt on your desk.

When I came in again you were awake and wearing my sweatshirt. You looked terrible, like something inside of you had aged and was slowly dying, rotting, poisoning you from the inside. You hugged me close and I closed my eyes and almost believed we were the only people in existence, close together, insuperable, one, beyond the reach of the fears that clouded your misty blue eyes.

You wore it all the time. Maybe because you loved it, maybe you loved me, or maybe you had nothing else to wear.

You disappeared before I got a chance to express my feelings, show you through passionate lips and tongue and arms and legs. You were gone before the cold winter ran free, spilling behind it a blanket of snow and ice, like my voice when I said I had to go after you told me not to.

Where are you now?

Am I in love with you or the shadow of the person I thought you would become