her teeth chattered
as the frigid wind
surrounded her.
he traced her wrists,
then held her hands.
her teeth fell silent
as his eyes met hers.
in that moment,
she knew he would stay
even during the winter.
Apr 22, 2020
Apr 22, 2020 at 2:30 PM UTC
My fingers crawl to
the loneliest place when I
want and miss you most.
-m.b
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 9:02 AM UTC
Lick my lips
Cradle my face
Gaze into my eyes
And tell me I'm safe
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 12:40 PM UTC
A naked tree in winter
my bones are always bare
I reach inside this
tree crown ribcage
pull my insides out
and press them on this page
I make a lovely composition
of red and superstition
I don't care
about how ***** it gets
I dare
you
Let me share
with you
You can do no wrong
Watch me
as I pretend it's been you
who touched these pages
all along
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 9:03 AM UTC
being a poet is not planned
**~for Gabriella Garcia~
~~
*a sixteen old soul says she understands,
being a poet is not planned,
forcing an old mans re-collection of the first time,
he made love to a virginal white
papyrus with muscles trembling,
body bent, chest bursting a rockets red glaring,
eyes marking the sheets with salty drip spots
what possessed the wrist veins
to wrest a cheap ballpoint pen to transfuse pain,
in a semaphore of uncoded ink blotches,
what was he thinking
was he thinking?
that it was an ejection
that it was an ***********
that it was a tribulation expiation
that it was a tribute explanation?
that it was an injection
that it was a circumspection inspection
that it was a circumscision surgery of emotional complexion
excising an infection with a written genuflection?
try, but no might, the first is subsumed
by the thousands that followed dutifully
though his one poem flawless, expertly recalled,
it will always be the next,
and unplanned just like this one too
who anointed his brow, the hair and forehead,
with oil pure, dripping down onto, into his cut cain marker,
who is not answering a query relentless
is this his plan, his appointment,
is this his flawed excellence,
is this his imperfect penance perpetual?
knowing well and full
now
the unplanned is his plan,
it’s his faceted flaws
that refract his coloraturas*
~~
upon this he reflects,
praying that
god protect the
young poets
from planning
______________
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2893127/unplanned
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 9:02 AM UTC
Maybe I hate you because you can see right through me
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 2:53 PM UTC
snow melts and flowers die
eventually you’ll leave my side
probably without saying goodbye
but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t try
Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 3:01 PM UTC
everyone has a way to talk themselves out of something they don’t think they deserve.
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 9:26 AM UTC
he was the skeletons in your closet
the monster underneath your bed
like he’d crawled out from down below
to lie on top of it instead
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 6:27 PM UTC
old habits
falling, crawling back to you
ripped tights, gas station lights, bar fights
the sort of boys you never introduce to your mother
where the word ‘love’ is enough to make you run away
I don’t know how this could be living,
but I feel more alive than I ever have, anyway
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 1:56 PM UTC