Someone once said that we die twice--
First, when we take our very last breath.
The flame on our candle goes out as we
Transition between life and death.

But then comes our second dying.
It’s similar but not the same.
That death occurs when someone for
The very last time says our name.

So where are extinguished flames?
What happens to the morning dew?
What effect does speculating
Have upon our point of view?

Life has many questions to ponder.
I wonder if such thoughts are freeing:
Knowing that we once had been
And not remaining attached to being.

-by Bob B (10-26-19)

My friend goes, gives me

a rose from the bush, alas --


still in the bud, picked.

Broken-record words,
twirl in the lobes of a brain.
Don’t play again.

Her soul is bleeding,
her colors are fading;
instead of becoming nothing,
she chose to give away her everything.

And so...

The world around her
suddenly turned brighter,
and there she was
slowly becoming duller.

The pain was unbearable
yet she silently endured it all,
she held the brush in her hand
and painted until the end.

Last night
I spilled insecurities all over the floor
I slipped and slid
I crawled on my knees
And climbed my way up the wall
Into your arms
But I never stopped thinking
The stains never go away
And I’m still not okay