They say that everyone is unique, just like a snowflake. But that day, I saw a similar pain in her eyes – a mind paralyzing throb. Or maybe we held the same snowflake, an infinitesimally small cold much like the shards of ice caught in our hearts.  All I know is that that day, that kindergarten lesson melted on the tip of my tongue, the warmth of the realization you provided allowing it.

can you sing a requiem about things not lost?
about the could've, would've, almost, that you're glad that never happened?
can i say
I don't miss never knowing what's it's like to stay in one place your whole life, (because it's something I've never done),
I don't mourn what could have happened but didn't (because we can't change the past, and who's to say it would have turned out better),
I don't mistake content for happiness (because for one they are different, and for another, content means there's still something to strive for)
can i say
I appreciate the moments when dreading the worst turned to finding the middle ground
I acknowledge that perfection does not exist except in regards to imperfection
I accept the pushing and pulling and flickering and shining and living...

can i say
i hate this (i love this)
and mean the exact same thing
because the glass is half full and half empty
and neither and either or
because it's
still a glass with water no matter every which way it's looked at

He was a demigod who tricked his dad, Zeus. When he got caught, he was killed and then cursed for an eternity; denied of food and drinks. He was made to stand in a stream of crystal water under apple trees. However, every time he were to reach for the fruit or bend down to drink, he'll be eternally denied.

To me, that's how it feels like loving you. You're right in front of me. Every thing I ever wanted but you're out of reach. All I could do is look at you in hunger of your touch and love. Longing fiercely to know what it feels like to have you in my grasp. Wanting a taste of you at least once. The question is; what did I do to ******* the gods for cursing me this way? Why does it feel like I'm eternally ******?

-m.b

What’s in an apology?

To me, it is simply
a torrential downpour of regrets
and just-kissed,
biting insults
wrapped in
1982’s dowry garments,
lacy and dainty and
full of holes.

To me,
it contains a
moth-eaten veil
smelling like
lily of the valley,
a rotten memory
of a sweet time –
piped rosettes of frosting
atop
a filthy sponge.

By any other name:
Surrender,
Atonement,
Vindication –
it is to none;
it is to none but
to soften the blow
dealt by
the concrete slab
of fault.

It is not any sweeter,
not even the gritty feel
of a Sweet N’ Low
between your teeth.

It is novacaine
to the muscles
in your cheeks
that have been scowling for so long.

So,
here it is.
I hope
that feels so much better.

When did you become someone
whose presence I longed to feel
at my fingertips
more than my pulse?
When did you become someone
whose voice had a cadence
that I would sacrifice
my dusks
and dawns
to waltz to,
spinning in your arms
and falling into the rhythm
of your footsteps upon my concrete heart?
When did you become someone
who I allowed to paint on every inch of my body,
never becoming tired of swirling brush strokes
and passionate color?

When did you become someone
who held down my hands with the weight
of your shackles,
slowing my heartbeat to yours,
barely fluttering?
When did you become someone
who kept me in your poisonous trance,
hearing sweet fairy music
whilst dancing a fatal few steps?
When did your soft brushstrokes
turn to pummeling stones,
taking the beauty from my skin
and replacing it with a thready luminescence?

When did everything that I revered about you
break me into two:
the one who had it all,
the one floating a foot above the ground
with socked toes and lacy clarity,
and the one who couldn’t stand her reflection,
the colors laid upon me no longer bright,
but thrusting me into the concrete jungle
you had momentarily freed me from?
Just answer me this…
when?

“When she was a tiny thing, barely the size of a walnut – wrinkled almost beyond recognition -  I  remember holding her in my palm and thinking that she would grow into something rather large one day. That in only another thirty seconds she would not fit in my calloused hand any more, her graceful limbs pouring over my splayed fingers like sweet tea on a bed of summer sunshine, a softened petal falling towards hard, unforgiving concrete. I knew that one day she would grow so big, my hand a small, 60's coffee shop to her Empire State Building. I knew that one day she would topple out of my  grasping fingers, plummeting to whatever laid below. I could only hope that she would land on her feet. “

And here I stand, feet aching from their sudden slap against the black top.

Can I borrow a feeling?
I'll take whatever you can give.
I've had a real hard time dealing,
with the way that we're supposed to live.
Can I borrow a feeling?
It doesn't even have to be good,
I'd tie a rope to the ceiling
if I wasn't so sure I'd break the wood.

Can I borrow a feeling?
I'll be thankful for what you lend.
This world has stopped being appealing,
'cause while we stand, our knees tend to bend.
Can I borrow a feeling?
I can promise to put it to use,
and it's not in my nature for stealing,
I'll pay you back, this is no ruse.

I don't want to be a blank page,
displayed on centre stage.
I don't want to be a blank page,
I'm too young to feel this age.

Can I borrow a feeling?
I so badly wish to emote,
I've heard that it can be healing,
and free the hands from my throat.
Can I borrow a feeling?
I'm now really begging here,
and it's so **** revealing,
that my desperation is so clear.

I don't want to be a blank page,
displayed in my skeletal cage.
I don't want to be a blank page,
I'm too young to feel this age.

Can I borrow a feeling?
I'll be thankful for what you lend.
This life has truly sent me reeling,
and I finally feel at my wit's end.