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.

State of Mind

Hi Lovely Moths.

Another restless night here (three a.m., to be precise) and restless nights merit new blog posts so I guess there are ups and downs to it? Either way, here I am...writing. And hopefully there you are....reading.

Shall we?

Do you ever have one of those days where everything seems to be going wrong? Like the WHOLE universe is plotting against you? Almost as if you're the character of a video game that some sadistic teenage boy is making jump off of a cliff over and over again? Maybe that last part is a little dramatic, but you get what I'm saying.

Well, today felt like one of those days. Things just didn't seem to be in my favor. A cocktail of college lectures, minimal sleep at night, and a crippling bout of anxiety does not a happy moth make. In fact, two of those things are part of why I'm writing right now, while the other is not going to be very enjoyable when I have to get up for it in about five hours......

What do I want to get across to you with all of this? Three magic words: state. of. mind. What do I mean by that? We have a lot more control over our lives than we think. Have you ever heard the expression, "like attracts like" ? If you live in a negative state of mind, you will attract and open a gateway for negatively perceived situations. For example, have you ever said something along the lines of "this is so typical of my life" or "these things always happen to me"? Be honest (I promise I won't tell anyone!) By saying these things, we are inviting the idea that what happens to us is out of our control, and that they will continue to happen to us whether we like it or not.

BUT.....it doesn't have to be that way! *gasp*

Do tell oh wise moth!

It is very simple: think positive thoughts. I know that sounds like the most cliche therapy mantra you've ever heard, but I'm serious. Peter Pan was onto something when he told Wendy and her brothers to "think happy thoughts" so that they could fly. Your positive thoughts might not lift you into the air physically, but emotionally it could take you all the way to the stars. By changing the chemistry in your brain and training it to adapt to positive thinking, you'll start to encounter situations with a better attitude rather than accepting their possible downsides.

Example: 

(so you know what the heck I'm talking about)

Say you just missed the bus and you now have to walk to where it is you want to go (granted it's not impossibly far away and you're not in a complete rush) or you have to wait for another bus.

Negative thinking: figures I would miss the bus, why am I never on time for things, this is just my luck, now it's going to take me forever to get there, there will never be a time that I don't miss the bus, I'm too tired to walk, this sucks.....

Did you read any of these in your head in a sullen voice or emphasis on words like fooor-eh-ver (reference to Sandlot anyone?)? These are what are known as "self-destructive" thoughts. Words like never or figures or sucks are often key words to negative thinking. There is an overall sense of self-blame and pessimism with this thinking.   

Positive thinking: I'll catch the next one, a little walking and fresh air might be good for me, now I'll have more time to listen to my music, it happens to the best of us.

Could you feel the difference in those ones? Rather than blaming yourself for missing the bus, these thoughts acknowledging that it happened but making light of it rather than treating it as a punishment from the universe.
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So moths, my challenge to you is to start off small in the direction of positive thinking. Try to train yourself to catch when you think negatively, acknowledge the situation you are in, and think of something positive that could come out of it. The more often you do this, the more likely you'll be to think that positive thought and nix the negatives entirely. I'll start: at the beginning of this post, I thought "there's no point in writing this, nobody is going to read it, I shouldn't even be up this late." After acknowledging those negative thoughts, I can flip them to be positive; everything I write may not be read by others, but I write them for me, if I weren't up this late then I wouldn't have these creative juices flowing!

Think on the bright side, moths. xoxo

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.

Blind Courage

Good Evening, Moths. 

It is 1:30 in the morning. A time when one would normally be sleeping, refueling their body with tender sleep to prepare for the coming day. I, unfortunately, am not one of those lucky people. My soul calls for writing, and so I am here.......writing..

You see I have the mind of a highway at rush hour. Bustling with the noise of honking horns, or in my case, thoughts. Thoughts with the intention of arriving at some destination, but getting jammed with countless others, left to sit, rather impatiently, and fester. A traffic jam of the mind.

The only way to clear a traffic jam is to allow the cars to flow. And so shall my thoughts.

Metaphors aside, I do have one such thought that has earned the subject of tonight's post. And that thought is romanticized......well, romance. Let me set the stage:

It is a time before Facebook and Twitter and even the mighty Google. A time before a couple of clicks told you everything you needed to know about a person before even speaking a word to them. Bookstores were alive and visited often. (Yes, they used to have actual stores filled with actual books you could hold in your hands, as opposed to the electronic versions available on your kindle using one-click shopping on amazon that can be bought without so much as leaving your bed. Imagine that.) In order to truly get to know someone else, you had to talk in person. Take walks in the park. Get coffee together.

In this long lost world, there are two people talking to each other via online chatting. Neither know the identity of the other, they simply speak to one another willingly. They feel as if they truly connect with each other, despite never having met in person. They speak about books that make them feel some kind of way, thoughts they have over the course of a day, and so on. The woman owns a neighborhood bookstore, one she had inherited after the passing of her beloved mother. The man, quite ironically, is helping to open a big-chain bookstore across the way that inevitably leads to the downfall of the woman's dearly cherished store. Neither of them know how pivotal a role the other plays in their lives, and they even cross paths and interact on multiple occasions (with little warmth for another, of course.) The man finds out first who she is, he comes to the realization that she is everything he wants in his life, and fights to earn her affection. In the end they finally meet, and she simply says "I was so hoping it was you," after which they have the long awaited first kiss.

Some of you may be thinking, this kind of thing only happens in the movies. Well, you're absolutely right. I'll give you two big hints: the woman is Meg Ryan and the man is Tom Hanks.......

You've. Got. Mail.

The quintessential recipe for a classic romantic comedy, or rom com. As if "Sleepless in Seattle" wasn't enough, they had to go and make another one. If there's anything you need to know about me, it is 1) I am a utterly hopeless romantic who is convinced was born in the wrong decade, and 2) I am an absolute sucker for the sappy, predictable yet heart-wrenching movie genre known as rom coms. Nobody likes to admit they're a sucker for this stuff, but deep down we all are, don't lie to yourself...

Anyway, what was my point in all of this? Yes, the basis of this movie is totally cliche and probably unrealistic, but the idea that falling in love with someone's words rather than their looks is something worth delving into. It is such a foreign concept in today's technology driven world. There are apps where we "swipe left" or "swipe right" based solely on a person's image. We first judge a person's appearance before deciding whether they are worthy enough to start a conversation with, never have knowing whether they have a wealth of knowledge to share or a story worthy of telling. How many people have we passed on throughout our lives that may have been able to say the words you wish you could speak with someone else or discuss something you too are desperately passionate about? We'll never know the answer to that, but I can guarantee there have been a few.

We go through life thinking we know what we want in a person. We have an image ingrained in our minds early on of what our perfect match would look like and how tall they would be and how the story of how you two met would play out. We're so set on finding these attributes that a person who may be everything you'd hoped for is overlooked because they're a few inches too short or they're not what your parents envision for you. How can such minuscule infractions cause us to pass on even the tiniest chance of being with someone that gets you? Someone that understands you and all that you believe in? Someone who may love you?

I know, I know. Someone's been watching one too many romances lately. I'll try to tone down the dramatics.....In essence, love may be presented to you in many different forms. We just need to gather the courage to set aside our expectations of what it's supposed to look like, and deeply cherish having even the slightest chance of tasting what it is to love and be loved.

Have the courage, moths. xoxo

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.

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.)