Twenty Two Years

Twenty two years I have lived.

I have grown. 

Have felt. 

Twenty two years I have not found love, 

I have not received love,

Have not made love.

Twenty two years my heart has waited.

My heart has ached.

Has yearned.

Twenty two years of being polite.

Of being supportive.

Being patient.

Twenty two years of suppressed words.

Of suppressed feelings.

Suppressed desires.

Twenty two years without your eyes on mine.

Without your hands on mine.

Your lips on mine.

What will the next twenty two bring?

(b.m.)

Mended

There are levels to brokenness. 

There are things that can be mended. 

A broken nail. 

A broken toy. 

A broken bone. 

There are things that can be replaced. 

A broken dish. 

A broken phone. 

A broken window.

And then there are the permanent ones. 

A broken trust. 

A broken relationship. 

A broken heart. 

Those are the ones that stay with us. The ones that, even when put behind us, always seem to be etched into our brains. They can't be mended or replaced. You may trust that person again, or get back together with your ex. Your heart may return to a steady rhythm. But there will always be that uneasy feeling in the back of your mind. That doubt. 

Will they betray my trust again? 

Does he love me the way he did before? 

Is my heart ready for this? 

The answer may never be clear.

Life is sometimes unforgiving. It's a fucking mess. Parts of it are easily broken, but there's strength in experiencing pain, hardship, and shitty times. Why do we use the phrase "break a leg" to tell someone good luck? Why do we love to tell that story about how we broke our arm in middle school falling out of a tree? Why do we empathize so much with movies whose main character had their heart broken and then lived to be a success story? 

There's power to it.

So go ahead. Break a nail. Smash a glass plate. Have your heart broken. Don't regret a single thing.

There are levels to brokenness. 

How broken are you?

.

.

.

Better yet,

How strong are you?

Drowning

I am floating in an endless sea,

Struggling to stay afloat,

Salt water filling my throat—

Oh god, how I wish to be free. 

The darkness soon consumes me,

Leaving emptiness in its wake,

A sadness I can't seem to shake—

Someone turn on the lights, I plea. 

It feels as though I've lost control,

Some may call it depressed,

This aching pain in my chest—

 Darkness is starting to take its toll. 

Sunny days are no longer my friend,

I converse with the thunder,

Rain eases me to slumber—

When will all of this bitterness end? 

How long this will last, I cannot say,

Only time can surely tell,

To break this awful spell—

An end to my drowning, I pray. 

-b.m.

Soul to Soul

Why hello there, Moths. 

Hello to another Monday. Mondays are that universally dreaded day, aren't they? They mark the end to the weekend, and the beginning to a long week until it's the weekend again! But maybe if we change our perception of this specific day of the week, we won't curse the moment our alarm clocks go off in the morning, making us get out of bed and taking care of that scary "r" word.....responsibilities *shudder* So how do we do that? We look at Mondays as a beginning. A fresh start. The week ahead can go however you will it to go. If you mold your mindset into a positive one, you can take control (that's right, control) of how things will turn out. You can be in control of how well that presentation goes, or how you do on your exam, or how well you stick to whatever goal you're striving towards. So instead of moaning and complaining that it's that dreaded Monday again, say to yourself, "it is a fresh start to the week, and I am going to make it a good one." Once you've nailed the week and your goals have been achieved, then you can put those party pants on and reward yourself with the pleasures of the weekend!

Or sweatpants and your favorite tub of Ben and Jerry's, like most of my weekends......

Now, onto the topic of the day. In my last post I talked about reincarnation and the idea of the soul continuing on into other lifetimes. I thought I would continue the discussion of souls and talk about soulmates. There are a lot of different religions that believe in the idea, including Hinduism, Buddhism, and Judaism. Each have their own beautiful interpretations.

Hindus believe there is a link between souls in a karmic way. Lehnu, in the Gujarati language, is the term they use for souls that we constantly cross paths with, who guide us towards a life that serves a higher purpose. They are destined to be connected to your life in some way or another.

Buddhists call the idea pratitya-samutpada, meaning all beings are "interrelated." Very similar to what I talked about in my last post, they believe that the soul can live many lifetimes, being reborn an infinite number of times, and along with that are our relationships. If a connection with another soul is powerful enough, then both of your souls will reconnect in the new lifetime. This is what causes the feeling of meeting someone for the first time and feeling as if you've known them forever.

Judaism has the Yiddish word bashert, meaning "bestowed." Your bashert is a person bestowed upon you as your destined partner. They also have the word hevruta, or "learning partner" similar to hinduism in that it is someone that guides you toward a purpose. Hevruta is someone that challenges you to be your best self, rather than someone that is a perfect match or "completes" you.

Many religions have many interpretations, but the common takeaway from all three of these is that they believe that we have soulmates. So, I know you're all dying to hear what I think about the subject. I absolutely do believe in the idea, but I want to note that the term soulmate, in my opinion, does not just mean a romantic partner. I think soulmates can take on many forms, including lifelong friendships. I think we can have more than one soulmate, such as a best friend that understands you in ways you don't even understand yourself, a friend that always knows what to say without saying anything, and a friend that you just instantly click with. And then there could be the romantic partner, someone you feel completely safe with, someone that constantly challenges you to be better, and someone that you knew you loved the first time you spoke (love at first sight is an ENTIRELY different subject for a different day). It's about connection. How your soul connects to my soul or his soul or hers. If you feel you have one of these soulmates, that destiny has brought you together with that person in some crazy way, do yourself a favor:

Never let go, moths. xo  

Caress of Sleep

It's barely dawn as I begin to wake,
Caressed by the light of morn.
Outside sparrows claim their stake,
To return to slumber? I'm torn.

Sleep calls my name, a whisper at most,
her gentle touch tugs at my eyes.
Enveloping me, holding me close,
What wonderful dreams there lies.

The promise of morning fades away,
I leave the sparrows to their song.
The beckoning of sleep outweighs,
To her familiar warmth I belong.

-b.m.

Deep Down

It feels as though I'm deep under water, swimming to the surface, but

never

truly

reaching

the

air

.

.

.

that's what depression feels like

-b.m.

Know Your Worth

He compares your beauty to the stars because he sees you as
one among millions.

You aren't a single star in space my dear,

You are the 

whole 

damn 

galaxy

And he hasn't even been to the moon.

-b.m.

Lost and Found

It's only when we 

lose ourselves 

that we discover 

what we have 

to find.

Get lost, moths.

-b.m.

Ignition

You set a fire in my heart,

yet

                you're

afraid

             to

    get

                                  burned.

       

-b.m.

sdrawkcaB

Wanting

To

Go

Back

To

How

Things

Were

Is

Backwards

Thinking

-b.m.

Plague

There’s a menacing shadow 

that stalks in the night.

It seeks out the innocent,

& consumes their light. 

It’s poison takes many forms,

a shapeshifter, of sorts.

Whether it be smoke or liquid,

or a solid, like quartz. 

By air it dances without constraint,

sashaying from lung to lung.

By sea it swims into the veins,

through skin or off the tongue. 

It preys on anyone in its path,

no matter how young or old.

Brothers or sisters, daughters 

or sons. Over all it takes its hold.

A prayer for those trapped in its 

jaws, fighting the ultimate fight. 

From the pain they’ll learn to grow,

Like plants to springtime light.

-b.m.

Ghosted

you had become a ghost,

a distant memory, slightly faded,

the words written in my journal.

i remember the night i told you goodbye.

when i yelled and screamed,

and promised that was the end of it. 

the nights that followed were cold.

too empty in the darkness, too alone,

the silence echoed. the tears whispered.

i learned to hear your name without crying. 

learned to smile at other men again.

 no longer searching for your face in theirs.

then i ran into you on the street one day and 

everything came pouring back. i hid it quite well 

behind the smile i had practiced. 

your smile. that smile that shook the ground

i stood on. the smile that i fell in love with. 

the one i tried so hard to forget.

i'd never felt love like what i had with you.

 it was indescribable. my heart ached from 

how hard it beat for you every day. 

i was a forest and you were a god damn match. 

carved from the same tree but you burned like hell 

and i was flammable.

you were ignited by our love. i was struck by 

the beauty and danger and raw power of your flame. 

until one day it burned out. 

and all that was left were ashes. dust left over from a 

wildfire. beneath, the embers still glowed with 

an unwavering passion.

i almost lost it. i almost broke like that god awful day. 

all of the pieces i glued back together, 

threatening to fall apart. 

but i didn't. we talked. mindless chit chat about

 how we've been. formalities. and then we parted. 

yet another goodbye.

i was left standing there in the street. processing. 

was he as broken as i was before? 

was he glued together like me?

i like to think so. that's the thing about love. 

it's excruciating. when you have it and after it's gone.

 a blessing and a curse. 

but it stays with us until we die. 

a score made on our hearts like tattoos of the past. 

they fade but never truly go away. 

we might have gone our separate ways, 

but we'll always have that. the love we shared. 

the kind they write books after. 

so once again you're a ghost,

a distant memory, slightly faded,

the words written in this poem.

always there, forever. 

-b.m.

Sparrow Song of Laughter

The sparrow sings his happy song, 

As clouds slowly roll along,

The summer night of mercy,

On the golden shores of Jersey.

His chirps of laughter bathe my 'tentive ear,

A sound familiar, and one I love to hear,

His joy abounds, to sing his cheery tune, 

In the midst of a dewy morn' in June.

His celebration lasts the whole day,

His life fulfilled, as if to say,

What joy must be to sing his song of laughter,

Without a fear of sorrow after. 

-father of the moth
(d.m.)

Speechless

Oh the frustration of

not finding the

right words.

It eats away at me,

like vultures on 

the dead.

-b.m.

Fallen Star

What a heartbreaking thing,

For an asteroid or comet.

Once above as a mighty king,

Now a rock so common. 

I wish I was on the moon,

Dancing among the stars.

I'd fly up like a balloon, 

Take a scenic route past Mars.

Up there I'd be alive and free,

Away from this horrible place.

Think how wonderful it would be,

Floating peacefully in space.

Here my soul is constrained,

Weighed down by gravity.

To the earth it is chained,

Dreaming of the galaxy.

You see I'm simply not meant,

To flourish within this planet.

Patiently awaiting my ascent,

For now I am all but stranded.

-b.m. 

Don't Blink

How it it, that
in a blink
of an eye,
all of life can
pass you by?

Once you were two,
life was so simple.
The cow said moo,
no stressing a pimple.

Then you were eight,
things were still good.
No worries of weight,
toy swords of wood.

When you turned sixteen,
things seemed different.
You dreamed of prom queen,
some friends had drifted.

Now you're twenty,
soon out on your own.
Saving every penny,
paying student loans.

Soon you'll be thirty,
finally settled down.
Making use of your degree,
feet firmly on the ground.

Eventually you'll be sixty,
enjoying your time.
Grandkids playing with kitty,
happiness at its prime.

Finally at the end,
you'll look back and say,
I cannot comprehend
how it felt like a day.

-b.m.

Deceived

i am here in the dark,
thinking of what you said.
oh the lies you bark,
as i lay tired in my bed.

it's 3 a.m., winds howling outside,
rain desperate to come in.
a storm from which i cannot hide;
heart aching for what might've been.

this tired feeling is deep within,
body, mind, and soul.
reparation i can't even begin;
slowly taking its toll.

it feels as though nature knows,
as she yells her thunderous roar.
her painful cry of tortured woes;
to a lost love she bitterly swore.

but fear not, the storm will pass,
as thoughts of you subside.
succumbing to some sleep at last;
with that, i am satisfied.

-b.m.

Fragile

A storm rages, growing in force,

the winds a haunting moan.

Mother nature the very source,

her tortured woes unknown.

The sky darkens, trees sway,

birds no longer singing.

No further shall the storm delay,

to unleash the hell it's bringing.

A similar storm wages on,

consuming my ethereal light.

My spirit's like a fragile fawn,

paralyzed by crippling fright.

Don't fret, for the light is strong,

keeping the dark at bay.

Only time will tell how long,

for that, I can only pray.

-b.m.

Hushed

Style 1:

Autumn will soon take its reign,

The shift rooted within my bones. 

The wind whispers its sweet name,

Filled with craving, it aptly moans.

Cool air caresses my face,

Sneaking through the window.

Filling every inch of space,

It rests beside my pillow.

Crickets' chirping fills the air,

Their chorus ever-ceaseless.

To the world they boldly share,

Their deepest darkest secrets. 

Above, the sky softly weeps,

Her tears descend with poise.

Falling on the Sycamore leaves,

They produce a sultry noise. 

It's early morn', the world's asleep,

Dark has yet to turn to light.

Soon the sun will start to creep,

To this moment I hold tight.

Here exists neither future nor past,

No yesterday or 'morrow.

A place to attain some peace at last,

No anxiety or sorrow.

              

-b.m.

Style 2:

It's the end of summer. There's a chill in the air as the weather starts to shift. The window is wide open, allowing a cool breeze to dance around the room. It's early morning, before the sun wakes and stretches her light across the earth. Rain lightly taps on the rooftop and bounces off the leaves of the trees standing outside. The world feels soft, hushed, as though time itself has paused for a moment to savor the peace of it. Sleep could not keep me from the sensation. The aroma of serenity. Nothing else exists outside of this space, for the moment. There is no past, no future. Only present. All of the noise in my mind is quieted so that the only noise to grace my ears are the chirping crickets and soothing raindrops. 

Drip. 

Chirp.

Drop.

Chirp.

 My eyelids begin to fall. Eased into rest, I allow myself to let go. 

Let go. 

Let go. 

-b.m.

Playground Behavior

Tired of the game these boys always play.

Say they want your heart,

But their actions don't say the same.

Texting at two a.m.,

Acting like boys and not men.

Tell you they'll give you the world, 

When their parents are still paying rent. 

Ask you to show some skin, 

But don't care what's within. 

Asking them questions about their life

(Because you genuinely care)

But they dodge anything personal and say,

"Baby I love your hair."

Why should I show you what's under my shirt,

Or beneath my skirt?

Because you're a flirt?

I've seen this movie before.

I know I'll get hurt.

Like I said, I'm tired of these games.

No more late night texts 

Or app with the flames.

Maybe one day you'll grow up 

And act like a man,

But until then,

It's just you and your hand.

-b.m.