1
Wise it is to live for a muse!
I know what the myth’s say:
’All about him you’ll obey’.

“For you, darlin’, I’d steal the sun,
Give you its rays for a tan
In the arctic spring.” he vowed.

Have we spoken the same language?
A stranger, familiar in behavior,
Like we were dating,
Each with a different passage.

Only recently,
I saw him pass me in the corridor,
Then it was the rapture,
Of a moment I wish to capture.

I wish we’d talk more,
Like we did before,
“Neglect” became his middle name,
And “Forget” was his pen name.

But darlin'
Have you heard?
I haven’t spoken a word
Ever since you returned
To the beast, I’ve tamed.

“Don’t play with my nerves,
Push me to the edge of a sword!”
I’m just a dried-up corpse,
Forgotten by the undertaker,
In the cemetery of love.

“Nothin’ grows in the bones!” hurled the stones
Then what’s with these flourishing lies,
Stinging my spine like thorns?

“Too sane to give birth to a fool!” he shout,
But my mind was set,
By Achlys* herself!

Honor was lost on you,
And virtue fell out of my lap
Like an aborted child.

2
Beside a martyred virtue
Lies rested and demons nested
Under the tattooed eyelids,
Of a mind sotted by moonlight.

Will my smoke make me loose,
And lose my breath and conscious
Up those cinema rows
Where I watched all of his shows?

It’s just psychodrama!
Baby, don’t worry,
Endless scenes of trauma,
Blurring my eyes to Nirvana.

I see you had it all,
Except a picture of me by your side,
Walking down the aisle.

You crossed my legs in two,
Then blamed it on the shoe
I wore just to please you!

You don’t know the pain
It takes to win this game
And write a name other than ‘Shame’...

As above so below the waters,
Of the lucid swirls
Where his nets cought all the pearls.

Like a parasite entering the cells
He damaged the shells,
Of the nesting oysters.

How gritty it must be!
Wood grain layers
Rubed on glass teeth,
No wonder you’d bleed
Amidst your venomous speech.

In a bluish night,
I lingered in white sweat,
Never loved you… right?
Now it’s turning into a fight.

God, I wish you’d be quiet!
For once, hear my heart as it knocks
On the locked gates of the Heavens’.

“Come'n count the beats
Of a lady turning into a freak,
Lounging seven feet deep

In an ocean of tears, the mermaids chant.
" Just a ghostly ship echoing nonsense!"
I cut my ropes like the braves
And drowned... before the tide turned.

I bled in braille,
Hoping you’d trace me
But " His heart isn't the harbor
To your graceful warship..."
So said the truth its last word.

3
I’ve been dreamin’
Of Paradise screamin’.
As I laid bare my apathy,
And clothed it in defiance.

His name still itches
On the back of my tongue,
I swallowed it down,
With every lie he hung.

Lit a cigarette on his memory
And let my lungs burn
In the mourning smoke.

"Is he still hooked on our story,
Or was I just a line in his diary,"
Crossed, smudged, miswritten?

This is no love poem,
It’s an autopsy,
an anatomy
Of what was never born
But still died inside.

Some moonless nights
I hear his laughter
Echoing in the waves
Of an upcoming disaster.

Foolish it is to die for a scar!
Just another scar in my sails
That never quite blends, with the rest.

© B.M.Ella (2025)

A strange pattern for
writing has came
to me lately.
The skeletons of
poems form when I
lie down for a nap.
Sleep always calls,
and bones want to
dance and grow skin.
Lilacs bloom, and I feel
the inner thigh of
eternity, soft and wet.

I can't get any rest.
I have to jot down the
notes or they turn
to ashes and blow away
Or, they are buried deep in
mud and slumber,
impossible to dig up.

I sleep with a notebook and
pen, as I drift off,
I whisper to the tortured
bones,
don't cry, and try not to worry.
I'll bring you to life.

If I were to leave tomorrow,
would you ever remember me?
would you visit my grave -
Is that how you'd remember me?
Or would you turn me
into a poem of yours,
and keep me alive through you?

Every day, I open my reality:
I wake up.
I feel.
I choose.
I decide—
knowing so many others
are crying behind the scenes,
and their trembling is raw.

Pain isn’t consolation—
it reinforces the structure of fragility
when the towers are crumbling.

At the core, we return,
squeezing black-and-white struggles
into our veins, into our memories.

To the only home
we never left
our own body.
The first and the last.

Vivid feels the breeze
Wind chimes sway upon a dream
In tiers petals fall

All these years, I wore a mask that was suited to other people's validity. I tried to ask for their acceptance to feel significant until it made me suffocated. Losing myself and emptiness felt in the depths of my heart. There's a hole that could never be filled by others. Behind this mask was my true self until I realized that I didn't need to hide anymore. I didn't need to cover myself from the world because love had found me.

The love I have for myself filled the hole inside my heart, exposing the true tenderness and goodness of the soul. My precious soul despite scars and imperfections, I know that I was beautiful. This love I have for myself surpasses all of the doubt and insecurities, uncovering the mask I have worn for so long, and embracing my uniqueness. This love nurtures my existence to be the best version. This love will keep me living.

That girl sitting there
is a beautiful tragedy
her mind is an aghast
her body
is her grave
her bones
ache
while her throat is being strangled
whats wrong with her mind
cant ever be untangled.
she,
is a beautiful tragedy