Poetry by Britt Wolfe
I write poetry in threes. Why? Because life, like bad luck and forgotten PIN numbers, tends to come in sets of three. So if you read one piece and think, Oh, that’s a bit sad, don’t worry—there’s probably a second one that’s even worse, followed by a third that either redeems the pain or, more likely, kicks you when you’re already down. You’ll find themes running through these poems, like a haunting melody or that one ex who refuses to stay in the past. Consider them a conversation—one I started and am now leaving you to finish. Good luck with that.
Poetry, to me, is just another way of trying to make sense of things that don’t make sense at all—grief, love, the way a perfect moment can slip through your fingers before you even realize you were holding it. Some of these poems are the verbal equivalent of whispering something half-formed into the dark, hoping someone, somewhere, understands. Others are the literary equivalent of standing outside in the pouring rain, shaking your fist at the sky. Either way, they exist now. What you do with them is up to you.
New poems will drop whenever I need to get something off my chest—so if you see a new one, just know that feelings were felt.
The Gravity Between Us
The Gravity Between Us is a sensual, romantic poem that captures the enduring magnetic pull between a wife and her husband, even after 13 years together. It explores how their connection goes beyond love and partnership, delving into the simmering attraction that still lingers in the smallest, everyday moments. Whether it’s a glance across the room, the brush of his hand, or the quiet moments between heartbeats, the wife remains captivated by her husband’s presence—both his mind and his undeniable, smoke show good looks. The poem weaves together themes of longing, familiarity, and the kind of deep-rooted passion that doesn’t fade with time but grows richer, more intoxicating, and impossible to resist.
All The Thoughts I Had While Talking To You
Few things are as excruciating as enduring the words of someone who has long since lost their grip on truth, wisdom, or relevance. All The Thoughts I Had While Talking To You is a scathing, darkly humorous internal monologue that strips away any pretense of respect for someone whose presence reeks—literally and metaphorically—of decay. With sharp wit and unflinching clarity, the speaker dismantles the delusions, arrogance, and bitterness of the person before them, exposing their hypocrisy and the empty bravado that masks their failures. What once may have been admiration has rotted into disappointment, and now, the only thing left to do is walk away—head high, victorious, while they remain trapped in the wreckage of their own making.
Do Not Speak My Name
A name is a powerful thing, but in Do Not Speak My Name, it becomes a boundary—one the speaker refuses to let a failed father cross. This poem is a raw, unfiltered reckoning with a man who abandoned his role in every way that mattered, offering not love, nor protection, nor even basic decency. His hypocrisy is laid bare, his self-proclaimed wisdom exposed as nothing more than brittle ego, his so-called love reserved for one while the rest were left to fend for themselves. The speaker stands unbroken, refusing to carry the weight of his failures, severing even the last remaining thread of shared blood. His curse is his own—his weakness, his cowardice, his inability to love. And now, even his daughter’s name is something he no longer has the right to claim.
King Of Nothing
A king in title only, King of Nothing is a blistering rejection of a father who failed at every turn—except, perhaps, in the sheer magnitude of his incompetence. With biting sarcasm and ruthless honesty, the speaker eviscerates his hollow authority, mocking his arrogance, his hypocrisy, and his laughable delusions of grandeur. He is a ruler of nothing, a man whose greatest achievement is sitting in judgment while doing precisely nothing of value. Meanwhile, the speaker stands tall, thriving in spite of him, unburdened by his failures. His legacy is one of decay, his name an empty weight the speaker refuses to carry.
The Curse You Bear
The Curse You Bear is a searing rejection of a father whose failures extend far beyond neglect—they are etched into betrayal, cowardice, and wilful blindness. The speaker, a daughter denied love, trust, and loyalty, condemns him for the hypocrisy of claiming a title he never earned. She exposes the rot at his core: a man who stood idly by as harm befell those he should have protected, choosing silence and indifference over responsibility. While he remains stagnant, bound by his own weakness, she has risen—strong, unbroken, and unwilling to carry the weight of his sins. His name, his legacy, and his failures are his alone to bear.