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Poetria May 17
paint me in your delication,
softer beams of coloured shape
golden grins, exhileration
oh how i hope to laugh again

salty odour, shiny face
born of sunlight, yellow taste
kiss me 40°, cascade waves
drink me up, I'm yours today

sunset eyelids curl in smirk
bluer skies have been upturned
parallels, and play pretend
summer then, summer again
'every summer is life-changing', you said.
  Apr 30 Poetria
b e mccomb
your car doesn't have
a cd player
which is a little unsettling
but i don't really mind

your hands remind
me of my dad's

i want to wear dresses
play taylor swift
spray myself in
citrusy perfume
and paint my eyelids
a shimmery pink

when i'm with you
i feel safe

i'm not convinced
that soulmates exist
but i am convinced that
we pick up people on
our way through life
and some of them just fit

some people are habit
can't remember a
time without them
and some people are the future
what could be instead of
what's always been

you're art in the foam on a cortado
you're a peach drenched in
heavy cream and limoncello
old overshirts and amaretto

you're champagne
and i'm the idiot
who intentionally
calls it "sham-pag-nee"

you can see through the
espresso stains on my
hands and arms right
down to freckles over scars

even if i slap myself to wipe
the pleasant look off my face
at the end of the day
you'll still think i'm cute

and when you say things
like that i start to feel all
gooey and underbaked
like a fallen cake with
cinnamon buttercream
melting down the sides
perfectly and
unabashedly flawed

i am selfish and afraid
and you don't seem to mind

so here's a toast to
letting someone new
into my life for
the first time
to allowing myself
to be vulnerable
and happy even if it
might be a mistake

because goodness knows
you're sweeter and softer
than i ever dreamed
someone could be
copyright 5/13/18 b. e. mccomb
  Apr 30 Poetria
b e mccomb
two concepts
dance around
in my mind
from time to time

the first one is
small towns and
familiar faces
streets with grass
growing in the cracks
and parking lots with
the footprint of my
disintegrating shoe
pressed into fresh asphalt

streetlights that
come on to let
me know it’s time
to go home
a soft place
to call my own

the second one is
intriguing and scary
traffic and lights
and people and buildings
that fight to reach
into the clouds
an unfamiliar city
with corners and caveats
to explore for the first time

lights that never
burn out
restless crowds
to fade into
as soon as someone
learns your name

two very different thoughts
both equally
concerning in
two very different ways

complacency or
out of place?

i refuse to give
myself an answer
or maybe i’m afraid
to let myself wander

but a third question
knocks on my
skull and
lets itself in

and i can’t help
but wonder

what does
five in the morning
feel like when you
can’t see the sunrise
casting shadows
on empty fields?

does the world still
find a moment to
release its breath
before the day begins
when the city didn’t
even sleep the night before?

what if i don’t
belong here?

which outcome would
leave me least misplaced?
copyright 4/21/19 by b. e. mccomb
  Apr 30 Poetria
b e mccomb
my brain is controlled
by two halves

one half is a
pink stuffed
easter bunny
bought on sale the
tuesday after
with big glassy eyes
that don’t see
and a slightly crooked
smile that doesn’t
let the emotions through

and the other half
is a bearded dragon
all spikes and scales
it flicks its tongue
at the pink bunny
and seems to imply

“go go go
keep doing

the rabbit stares
into the distance

the bearded dragon
continues standing
neck prickles twitching
desperate to make
something happen
and yet he cannot
convey this urgency
to the pink bunny

who only exists
to be held
and to sit quietly
with only his
thoughts for

and so the silent
struggle for
action remains
silently and
unaffected by
either party’s action

or lack

and that’s the
two halves of
my brain and how
they work together

apathetic and
yet neurotic
depressed and
yet still anxious
copyright 4/23/19 by b. e. mccomb
Poetria Apr 22
i need you now
the sky stays dark for longer
and when it's pretty it's so so far


i reached out
though my ability to reach is weak
you didnt reach back far enough
for that i am sorry


i think i broke my own heart this year
its not a spray of sadness its
the discomfort in a forced hug by my father its
my mothers tired eyes my sisters urgency my brothers pain its

wanting to die but being too afraid
wanting to live but feeling too restrained
wishing i was five years old so i could be forgiven for the way ive been living
and the fear is crawling through my body every moment im awake

failure is so close now, regret will soon follow

and the saddest songs make me want to get up and dance


i need help but im too proud to ask
I never listened to the playlist you made me on my birthday. You know, and i should, and i sincerely mean to.
Poetria Dec 2018
close my eyes
and there is no sound now
the waves delicately
lick my feet
and I'm rooted in my place
almost like I'm waiting,
begging for their taste

I stumble on old rocks
as they push me around
I am not drowning now
but I remember
this is how it felt
before I last drowned

close my eyes
and I feel the water
pulling me down
I am on my knees
and there are whispers
leaking into my ears
whispers I had given to the sea
the sea that I thought would help me

but my ears hurt
and I push to the surface
and now I am screaming
for I am the whispers
I am now all of the sea

the wind is biting
the air is so cold
I am only skin, bone
it is all I can feel is me
a heart losing it's beat
a voice that cannot speak
noiseless yet loud
I am the sea
I'll always write about the Sea
Poetria Dec 2018
are you the pieces put finely together,
or are you a togetherness, pulling apart?

and what lies in the in-between,
the borderlines, the crevices?

those things that bled
from your mind into hidden places

what did you lose in the battle of wits,
what did the darkness hide?
wrote this a while ago and it's just been collecting dust
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