she's got a broken smile
for a broken heart
she likes to hope
her brokenness
is a work of art
lost in herself
she cannot breathe
around him, around her.
too many people
who aren't falling apart.
a broken smile
with a broken heart
her father says
she's a work of art

It’s not that I don’t experience the dark side of things or I don’t have sadness in my life or any other form of fear…it’s that I have reached a point in my life, for me, that I have chosen not to live there long.  Positive-negative, dark-light, sadness-joy, fear-love are the same stick, just different ends.  There is not one without the other but we do have the choice of which end of the stick we will stand on.  At this point my choice is to stand in the middle, closer to the positive, Love, joy, light end of the stick…that’s where my reactions come from.  
I was told once, “no matter how dark things get, there is always light because you are there.” I also realize that; “no matter how light it gets, there is dark also, because I am there.” All of it is me, but I have lived in the negative, dark, sadness and fear and it wasn’t good for me, it just wasn’t working, no matter how I tried to make it work. Soooo, I moved to the middle  and things got better, than a little pass the middle  to the light, joy, Love, positive side and thing got to feel a lot better…within me where it truly counts.  I found a balance for me!  Days became better focusing on the ups, hanging with the good experiences of the moments, standing in some light.  There are still those moments when I think…”I want to slap the taste out of their mouth.” But in the next moment I think; “will it move things forward? How good would I really feel and for how long? You will be right where they want you to be and not where you want to be.”
I do see, feel, taste, hear and experience it all, but as I experience all, I choose to let go and move on from there. Now, some I do hang with a little longer but in the end, all of it, every experience positive or negative is put back into the flow, to be returned bigger and better.  I choose to stand on the love, light, joy end of the stick…standing in Gratitude for it all, every experience.  So I continue on my journey, one step at a time, with all its ups and downs, working hard to choose wisely…well, that’s “My” perspective.

HAVE A GREAT DAY..EVERYDAY!
LOVE Y'ALL!!!!!!! BIG SMILES!
(Written 2014 - still stands today)

There are two types of the word "crush-able". The first is the type that people would easily have a crush on. They got it all: the looks, intelligence, talent, humor, everything. It's hard to not fall for them the minute you lay eyes on them. You're attracted to them like a magnet. The second is the type that's easily crushed. Constantly getting hurt by the people around them, especially the ones they like or admire. They've gone through it all: getting rejected, ignored, pushed aside, not even second best, just..not a choice. Again and again and again. No surprise, I'm the latter.

I'm not the type of girl that people would crush on. I'm always the good friend. That's okay. I'll accept that. But it's always until there. That's the farthest I'll ever go with anyone. No matter how close we are, no matter how much we click; I've never been the special kind of person that they want to take to the next level. Maybe just foolishly flirting here and there, but they never take me seriously. No, I'm just their best friend.

The one who picks up the pieces when no one does, the one who sits quietly by your side when you're crying, the one who listens when you go on and on about this fantastic person you're drooling over, the one who eats with you when you don't feel like being in a large crowd cause you don't think you look your best but being with me is okay cause "Hey, you're my buddy. It's alright." Yeah I'm that girl. Always there for you, covering up your lies, tell you what's the homework you missed when you skipped class, getting text after text of "Can you do me a favor?.. Great, I owe you one. You're the best!"

It seems like I'm cursed to be everyone's friend. Again, it's not a bad thing. I just wish, for once, I'm the first type of crush-able. I wish someone would look at me like I put the stars in the sky and I make the waves crash on the sand. That I invented beauty with brains. I just wish someone would think highly of me the way I keep thinking of the people in my life. Of loving me the way I've loved my crushes before. And doing so sincerely. Not because I keep complaining, but because they genuinely love me for me.

-m.b

How perfect I was to be the stars in your night sky.

You were my favourite midnight blue and I was the light to see you through.

But you never saw me did you?
Not once did you tilt your head high enough to see me shoot slowly over you.
You wanted to see that brightness but we both know I blinded you.

Just in case you wondered.. those stars don't shine anymore.

Light does travel faster than sound. Maybe my screams will haunt you years from now.

There's no sparkle in these eyes..
Have you heard yet? That you lost your greatest prize?

It was creepy, eerie, so tangible.

You knocked on my bedroom door.
You walked in so slowly.

As you approached me, my heartbeat hastened.
You sat down right in front of me and our eyes met.

Your hand reached out to me and we hugged.
I held you so close.

I dreamt of you last night.
I remember reassuring myself it was real.

When people read my poetry
they all have the same question
"Why does your poetry have to be so sad?"
The question used to offend me
I used to think that question deserved an answer
I even started changing the kind of poems I wrote to please the people who read them
I was satisfied with my work
but it wasn't really me
I began to feel guilty
I began to feel like a fraud
Charles Bukowski once wrote
"a good writer must simply let it all go, regardless"
I'm sure he meant for those words to mean something else but for me
it was as if I was being reminded to stop allowing other people to have control over my writing
It's not every day I gain advice from someone who has passed on years before I was ever born
I no longer feel the need to answer everybody's question
Hell I even ask myself from time to time
"Mandie, why must your poetry be so sad?"
Depression is another language to me
I speak it well
I write it well
I know it well
Bottom line
if my poetry is too sad for you
then don't read it

I always make people happy

I make laughs
And smiles

No one makes me happy
Or laugh , smile

I've lived in so
Many houses
I've never had a home

I swam in a swimming pool
So much water in my head
I drowned

I was deep down
I can't breathe air anymore


All i see from underwater is
Smiles
And the laughs

The blue waves
On the surface

learn new ways
of taking fire and turning it into art.
take off finding old ways and methods that
are just as good as she remembered kissing the sky with
pure heat.

i don’t quite remember
was it patriotism or fear?

i don’t quite remember
was it a gunshot or a celebration?

can we eat today without guilt?

it goes up in smoke
she looks on // he looks weakly
all things are half broken in this lifeless stupor.
understand,
a firework is just a reminder of what we are
burning, tired, exploding.