I looked down at my hands
and they weren’t trembling.
My face was dry,
no tears were assembling.
I told you goodbye and
this is my reaction.
A looked deep in your eyes and
saw no attraction,
no fondness of me,
just your usual scowl.
And a peace fills my chest
like the night calms the owl.
I turn away, bag in hand and
get into my car.
I look up once more
to see your face from afar.
That’s when I finally
settled in my peace,
and drove off in the night;
a caged owl’s been released.

~kb

roses are red,
violets are blue,
you are sweet and kind,
and beautiful too.

You grab the thread
And start walking away
And I, still pinned to a twig
Unravel, unravel
And become but a trail
Behind your sail.


-- Eleanor

You’re not the unreachable stars
You’re not the almighty sun
You are every blade of grass
You are every deer in the forest
You are every ripple in the pond

But I
I am the restless moonchild
Roaming senselessly through
The starless sky

But I
I am the moon that wakes
Among slumbering hours
And sleeps through life

But I would rather be the dust
That buries your loneliness
But I would rather be the dews
That wash away your sorrow

Your gift for me is my love for my humility
Your happiness for me is my willingness
To be your eternal shadow and not just
The momentary sunshine

You’re not the sky high above all
You’re not the gale that takes all
You’re the dove I wish to caress
You’re the untouchable dandelion

And I
I am the dark clouds above all fleeing life
The inescapable starless night

And I
I am the gale wind that leaves nothing behind
That goes away silently
When there’s no hope left to be find


And I would rather be the catkins
That hold on to your dreams in flight
And I would rather be the honeybees
That take away your bitterness, despair and fright

Please show me how to love my humility
Please bring back my happiness, my willingness
To be your eternal shadow and not just
Momentary sunshine

For my love for you is not above all,
            But within every breath of life.

I jumped into a skin
and found old bones
a poets poetry
scattered across years.

Another man's bread
Has nothing to do with how you set your own table