Celestial

A star doesn't need validation from others in order to shine,

and neither do you, my dear.

Neither do you.

(b.m.)

Riptide

It's something o'clock in the morning on

someday of the week. The softest light is 

peeking through the window, having just started to

stretch its rays and touch the earth.

The birds haven't quite woken from their slumbers just yet,

apart from a few lazily singing out their morning tune,

sounding as if they're saying "just five more minutes."

The only other sound is the rhythmic breathing of

someone in a deliciously peaceful sleep lying next to me,

buried in a sea of my soft white comforter.

The light has now started to stretch its fingers across the bed,

tenderly caressing her face and illuminating a

treasure trove of beauty. No sunrise in the world could

convince me of a more breathtaking view than 

the one here in my bed. 

Laying on my side so we're face-to-face,

I reach my hand out to gently touch her cheek,

enamored by the soft rosy hue and 

carefully arranged freckles.

Then, with a deep, life-giving breath in through her nose,

the most heavenly smile appeared beneath my fingers.

First one, then two, sleepy eyelids slowly lifted

to reveal oceans of blue whose rip currents

pulled me in with the promise of never longing for land

again.

And I surrendered to it. Completely.

(b.m.)

Unidentified

Who Am I?

The color of my hair?

The clothes that I wear?

The touching of my thighs?

The circles under my eyes?

The petiteness of my feet?

The food that I eat?

The dimple in my chin?

The paleness of my skin?

The grades of my tests?

The size of my chest?

The secrets that I hide?

The times that I've cried?

Who Am I?

(b.m.)

Bitter

at some point in your life,

somebody will come and

promise you such 

pretty things 

and whisper sweet words

in your ear,

so sweet you'll salivate at 

the sound of it.

you'll crave it. 

your hunger will drive you

towards it, and you'll be 

mesmerized beyond reason.

little do you know,

the aftertaste is

bitter. 

he was bitter. 

he promised me a love he never

had to give.

a future he never intended on

having

with me.

spoke empty words with selfish

intentions.

he wanted my body and not my

heart,

i was blinded by his compliments

and attention.

i soaked it in like sunlight to a flower

after a long, cold winter.

one day, though, i woke up from my

filtered reality.

i saw how he only texted me after

midnight.

how he never asked me how 

my day was.

how he called me sexy, but not

beautiful. 

the realization that he would never 

leave his girlfriend

for me.

how silly of me.

i was made the side piece.

the project he would revisit

time and again.

the toy he could play with 

without fear of 

causing damage.

how had i let it come to this.

how had i let this boy,

not a man,

play me like one of his 

video games.

take advantage of my eagerness

for love

or the softness of 

my heart.

i am a work of art. a masterpiece.

not something to be handled 

by someone with greasy fingers

and inexperience.

i am a fucking jewel,

among the rarest of stones

encased in dirt but my god

do i shine on the inside.

i am not a puzzle that can be

solved in a day.

i am full of clues that first need 

to be uncovered and then

pieced together 

in order to see the 

complete picture.

and he only cared for the surface.

-b.m.

Imperfectly Perfect

Happy First Day of March, Moths!

Wow I have really been slacking in the writing department lately! The thing with me writing poems and blog posts and such is that it isn't something that can be forced. Sometimes inspiration just comes to me and I can't stop typing, and other times I don't even know where to start. Rest assured, my creative juices are flowing today and thus: my new blog post!

Today I want to talk about imperfections...

*screams*

They're not as scary as they sound, I promise. I very briefly mentioned the idea of imperfections in my Sorry Not Sorry post a few weeks back, but I didn't go into much detail about them. Firstly, what do I mean by imperfections?
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im·per·fec·tion
/ˌimpərˈfekSH(ə)n/

noun

1. a fault, blemish, or undesirable feature
   ex. scar, birthmark, freckles, wrinkles, cellulite, stretch marks, pimples, etc. 

definition courtesy of google
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Now that we have that squared away, where am I getting at?

*What I am about to say may be shocking to some, reader discretion advised*

Ready? Imperfections are......beautiful! Yeah, I said it. And boy do I believe it to my core. I'll tell you why: there is no such thing as "perfect." Seriously, it's true. All of those Instagram models and celebrities that you see through filters and makeup are all made up of imperfections. They're humans too, they get pimples and pass gas like all of us. These imperfections make us human. They tell a story that only collects with age. How cool are birthmarks?? Not everyone has one but for those that do, they are completely unique to that person and no one else. It's almost like being a knight donned with a special medal they have to wear for the rest of their lives (that's right, if you have a birthmark you're now officially a knight). How about wrinkles? I know they've come up with everything but the kitchen sink as far as remedies for "anti-aging" against wrinkles, but what makes them so cool is that they're remnants of every movement you have ever made since being born. Those lines on each side of your lips? You got those from every time you have ever smiled. They're the mark of happiness in your life. The wrinkles on your forehead? They were made every time you were ever surprised by something and it made you raise your eyebrows. And scars? They're probably the coolest of them all. Each one undoubtedly has some interesting story to go along with it, like that one time in middle school when you climbed a tree and fell out of it, so you got this sick little scar on your back (a.k.a my mom) or that time you wrestled a crocodile in the amazon and lived to tell the tale...(okay, that one is a little farfetched, but you get the point). For all of the mothers reading, think about those stretch marks on your stomach that you absolutely dread. Do you remember how you got them? You carried a human being inside of you for nine months, that's how. You did the hardest thing anybody can do on this planet. Those stretch marks are proof of that feat, and you should be wearing them with pride for what you have accomplished. Don't even get me started on tattoos. These are chosen imperfections, or pieces of art as I see them. Some are words, some are giant tigers, but regardless they're now a part of you and your story.

Personally, I have every single "imperfection" that I have included in this post. Some I may dislike more than others, but as I said before, they are a part of me. They make me who I am. I have a "beauty mark" freckle on my left cheek that has been there since I was little, and I've come to love it because it makes me unique. I have four tattoos (to my father's dismay), a birthmark on my left wrist, a butt chin that I get from my mom, and countless others that I've acquired over my twenty years of life. I wouldn't change a single thing.

So, I challenge you to make a list of all of the "imperfections" you see. Write down how you got them or how it makes you unique or who in your family you may have gotten it from. Do this without judgement of yourself. Look at these quirks like an outsider looking in, and you have to explain it to them. What inspired you to get that tattoo? Is it sentimental or was it your 21st birthday and you had one too many drinks? No matter what it is, embrace it and be kind to yourself.

Love your imperfections, moths. xoxo

Masterpiece

She watched life from
A distance,
Never getting too close.
She was met with
Indifference--
Outside the wind blows.

But within her shines a
Bright light,
Merely kept at bay.
Like stars decorating a
Dark night--
Invisible during the day.

She wonders if anyone
Truly knows,
The sparkle that she hides.
Or the hypnotic way her
Blood flows--
Like the moon to ocean tides.

Until then she has made
A vow,
A promise to her heart.
To lose herself she won't
Allow--
An eternal work of art.

-b.m.

Take a second to reflect on the day you've had
and use it as a learning experience for
the days ahead.
Love the person that is you. 

Jealousy is an ugly trait.
Love those around you, and above all,
love yourself.

Simply Pure

Hello moths!

I took this picture about two months back, and every time I look at it, I relive the emotions I felt when first encountered it. I know, that sounds silly but I have this deep connection with nature, and I believe that this leaf is a metaphor for something really special. Now I know what you're thinking:

It's a dead leaf Bri...

Just take a closer look, what do you see?

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Still don't see it? (fine, I'll tell you) 

Directly in the center is a perfectly shaped heart--see it now?? How adorable is that? I'm a pretty vigilant person, so as I'm walking to class all of a sudden this little dead leaf stopped me *dead* in my tracks and made me back up to take a closer look. I was so in awe of this perfect heart being in the middle of this leaf on the sidewalk. Now I know plants/leaves/dead leaves don't have feelings (I'm not that crazy) but it almost gives you a sense of how precious life is. We, as humans, coexist with so many other things on this planet, from animals to trees to the smallest flowers. Together we are whole. One day, we will all die (a simple fact of life) because, well, that's the circle of life. Organisms are born, they live, and they return back to the earth in death. It's actually a really beautiful concept the way we once again become a part of that which we originated. That's another thing to point out: our culture in America is one that absolutely fears death and generally avoids discussing it, from the way we bury the dead in coffins that are hidden underground, to the way the media never shows funerals or related images. In the bible (not getting too religious here) bodies of the dead were exhibited on open tables where loved ones and those around them could view the deceased with respect and clarity. It wasn't a scary or disgusting thing, it was a part of the culture of that time because death was universally accepted (that, and the bible ensured those who repented their sins and lived an honest life had no reason to fear dying). Whether you are a religious person or not, it is a beautiful concept. Death is such a feared thing today that we sometimes divert our attention away from life and focus on what will happen once it comes to an end. Live the best life you can and take the most out of it: if this one life is all we get, then you better be damn sure you live it to the fullest. Otherwise, be a kind and compassionate human being and you will be rewarded for it in the end, simple as that. It's a little something to think about. 

Anyway, the thing I was getting at with the leaf is that yes, it is a dead leaf, but even in death it has this little beautiful image within it--in the shape of a heart. This dead leaf had the power to make me, a human being, stop and take a second look at it. How amazing is that? I think it's important to really connect to our surroundings and have love and respect for every single element that exists around us. We are often times a selfish species, believing we are at the top of this "pyramid," but simply being able to reason or converse does not make us pure. A human woman nursing her newborn baby is no more pure than a gorilla doing the same for hers. We are simply a reflection of the environment around us (one of which we have manipulated and exploited, leading to the misdirection of human nature). Who is to say we are the highest power? Nature is constantly retaliating, showing her supernatural powers in the form of hurricanes or tornadoes, things that are uncontrollable and exposes the vulnerability of the human condition. The bottom line is that this dead leaf represents the purity of nature. Nature does not think ill of others, does not judge, does not seek material things: it simply is. What's more beautiful than that (besides you, of course..)?

Let's aspire to be as pure as the nature that surrounds us: that is my challenge to you. 

Happy living, moths. xoxo

A moth is a butterfly, too.

Sweet girl, listen to my plea:

All those things you wish to be, 

Are only things the eye can see.

Never will they set you free;

A fishing boat in an endless sea. 

Sweet girl, don't curse your skin:

I know you wish to be model thin,

To fix your smile or nose or chin. 

But not eating makes your head spin;

Hurting yourself is your greatest sin. 

Sweet girl, overcome your fears:

I know there's pressure from your peers, 

To show more skin and drink more beers.

But I promise you it's not worth the tears;

None of this will matter in twenty years.

Sweet girl, if only you knew:

So much beauty lies within you,

As well as the courage to stay true. 

Labels are just words that people spew;

After all, a moth is a butterfly, too. 


-b.m.