Celestial

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

and neither do you, my dear.

Neither do you.

(b.m.)

Closed Windows

I'm 10.

It's a warm summer's day. So much brightness. 

I'm riding in the back seat of the car as mom and dad

happily hum to whatever's playing on the radio, 

with my brother next to me excitedly yelling at his 

Nintendo DS, dramatically waving his fists to the sky

in frustration. The windows are all rolled down,

filling the car with the smell of freshly cut grass.

My eyes are closed, head leaned to the side, letting

the warmth of the sun kiss my face while the

gentle breeze caresses it. I let my arm hang out of

the window, my hand floating in the air like a surfer 

on calm waters.

Peaceful. 

I'm 22.

It's an overcast summer's day. So much humidity.

I'm riding in the passenger seat of the car as my mom

drives in silence, apart from the humming of the air

conditioning. She has a headache. My brother is in the

back seat, body hunched over, face buried in his phone.

Mindlessly scrolling. The windows are all up, and all I

can smell is the stench of a road-killed skunk seeping

through the vents. My tired eyes fight to stay open as my

head slumps back onto the headrest. Dark shaded

glasses conceal my face. Hands restlessly fidgeting

in my lap.

Anxious.

And I was so quick to grow up.

(b.m.)

Fly Flying

I was watching a fly flying,

Listening to its buzzing buzz.

How quaint I thought this little fly,

How loudly I heard it buzzing by.

Wishing this fly would fly away.

Wishing this day would die away.

Suddenly the fly stopped flying,

And the buzz stopped buzzing.

I looked up and down,

I looked all around.

Until I noticed a peculiar plant,

Planted on the table’s top.

In this plant the fly was trying,

Trying, but failing at flying. 

Lured, it was, by a sticky fuzz,

And never again will it loudly buzz.

How silly I thought this little fly,

How sad I felt to say goodbye.

I wished that this fly would fly away,

And that this day would die away.

But now the fly is dying away, 

 And the day's no sooner flying away.

Now, like the fly, my thoughts too decay.

Now I’m wishing a fly would fly my way.

(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.)

Nature's Bounty

Does a river stop rushing in fear of
being too loud?
Does a tree hide its leaves in fear of
taking up too much space?
Does the sun dim its brightness in fear of
being too noticeable?
Does the ocean hold back its waves in fear of
disturbing the shore?

Do they?

Should you?

(b.m.)

Series: Ticking Clock

#1

tick
tick

Mind racing.
Feet pacing.

    tick
    tick

Hands shaking.
Heart aching.

tick
tick

Sleep delaying.
Thoughts decaying.

    tick
    tick

Mouth pleading.
Skin bleeding.

tick


tick




tick.

(b.m.)


#2

I got a splinter in my hand yesterday,
Still, the clock ticked.
Things didn't go as planned yesterday,
Still, the clock ticked.

I forgot to take my meds today,
Still, the clock ticks.
The loneliness spreads today,
Still, the clock ticks.

I'll breathe my last breath someday,
Still, the clock will tick.
We'll all meet with death someday,
Still, the clock will tick.

and tick. and tick.

(b.m.)


#3

The clock ticks 86,400 times per day.
It's been two years since you left without saying
goodbye,
and not one tick has brought me closer to feeling
whole again.

(b.m.)

Which?

Which is worse?

Never to have loved,

or

Never to have b

                              e

                                   e

                                                     n loved?

Which is worse?

A hollow heart,

or

A f

       o

         r

             s 

               a

                  k

                     e

                                      n heart?

(b.m.)

Reflected

I stumbled upon this empty shell,

as I walked along the river.

Maybe it was the decaying smell,

that made my body shiver.

Something about it drew me near,

as I ventured beyond the trail.

Maybe it was the feeling of drear,

that made my skin go pale. 

Most beguiling was this ivory stone,

as my eyes became transfixed.

Maybe it was the stark white bone,

that made me so affixed.

I soon realized the connection,

as my chest welled up inside.

Maybe it's my own reflection,

that this empty shell implied.

-b.m.

Apart

I like to think of the moon

as a friend of mine,

when I'm lonely at night.

Even he's gone too soon

'cause of sunshine,

and her blinding light.

-b.m.

Tongue Tied

All of the words I wanted to say

but didn't

dripped off my tongue 

like vodka 

with no chaser.

A bitter aftertaste.

A gateway to regret.

-b.m.

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.

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.

Rhythm

      She doesn't need someone else's music to dance.

She 

            sways

to  

              the 

rhythm 

         of

  her

              own
damn

              heart.

-b.m.

Brewing

Something is stirring from deep within;

My hands are shaking.

My body is quaking.

A storm is brewing beneath my skin.

Like a dormant volcano inactive for years;

The pressure is building.

The air is chilling.

Threatening to erupt are my deepest fears.

The explosion, by nature, is cruel and relentless;

The screams are shattering.

The tremors are battering.

The victim, my spirit, is weak and defenseless. 

The screaming hushes and the shaking stills;

My soul is hollowed.

Then darkness follows.

Hauntingly silent, my loneliness kills.

Back to dormancy, I quiet once more;

The smoke clears.

Dried are the tears.

How long it will last, I cannot be sure.

I cannot be sure.

-b.m.

twenty one years

twenty one years i have lived.

i have grown.

have felt.

twenty one years i have not found love.

i have not received love.

have not made love.

twenty one years my heart has waited.

my heart has ached.

has yearned.

twenty one years of being polite.

of being supportive.

being patient.

twenty one years of suppressed words.

of suppressed feelings.

suppressed desires.

twenty one years without your eyes on mine.

without your hands on mine.

your lips on mine.

.

.

what will the next twenty one bring?

-b.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.