If you were a museum you'd be a gallery of new beginnings and hopeful dreams
A masterpiece of an unforgettable smile and dazzling eyes
You're the type of art that will touch people's soul by just looking at you
Some may be puzzled and may not be able to understand you
But there will be people who will appreciate and comprehend what you were trying to paint
You're the kind of art that has your mother's brilliant mind and your father's defined looks
Both a deadly combination
For you are the off spring to carry on your parents' goal
Your words are poetry filled with sincerity and wisdom
Your lovely face and cheerful personality makes people drawn to you
But you are still learning, everyday
Trying to draw out the biggest and most amazing masterpiece there is
You are still trying to find your muse and your inspiration
Little did you know that you are your own muse
That is why your art is pure and raw and real because it comes from within your soul
Your art is spreading love and kindness throughout others
And through years of being painters block or writers block
You've managed to block out the negativity and spread out the positivity
Because if you were a museum your artwork would be filled of a promising future and lively dreams
For you carry the genes of your mom's sadness and recklessness
And your dad's happy attitude and cautiousness
Maybe that's why you've always been reserved and detached which makes you woe
But I hope one day you open your museum that is your heart to share your art to others and let them in so that you could seek happiness and this adventurous side of you that has been hidden all these years
Because you yourself is the most beautiful piece of art work that is yet to be discovered.

Inhale.
This life of living to loving to longing for too long,
Before we know it winter draws and the song is sung,
But this moment, this is life,
Pain, joy, charity and sacrifice,
The bad molds us just as the good does,
This mortal clay through which our blood courses,
And the life it forces from parental sources,
Becomes ignored so easily,
That clocks tick tock moves silently, teasingly,
So that all too soon meaning is lost in stress,
The mess bore of intertwining consciousness,
It's important to pause,
To take a moment away from economic constructs and socialites laws,
To take one second, to breathe in and breathe out
And within a breaths brief eternity attempt to grasp what life's about.
Exhale.

"And how does that make you feel" she asks, pen poised over clipboard.
I want to scream at her, tell her that mere words could never hold the weight of what I feel
But instead I stare fiercely into her eyes and say...
"how does it make you feel, to know you can't save me?"

You touched my heart
and managed to rip it out
like it was yours to take.
If you asked,
I would've given it to you
without a second thought.
But your self righteous attitude
assumed you could take it and
not give anything back.
So I was left here sitting on the floor
of our abandoned apartment
with an empty chest and a full mind.
All I could think was how stupid of me
to think you could actually love me too.

take the hurt away
let love stay,

take the pain away
let love say,

take the tears away
let love today,

take it all, i pray




© 2016 B.L.
All Rights Reserved.

Last Friday night
across a summer’s night
the moonlit afire of cosmic presence
endured a promise of good peace.
As I entered my home, 9.13PM
I received a text from my dad
informing me that he’s been
involved in a car accident.
My flesh was worn out
from the day’s activities,
and melancholy added pressure
to my bloodstreams due to
my dad’s unfortunate event.
I could feel uncertainty
filling my unconscious mind,
drowning in sadness ‘cause
for the past six years
its been a normality for him;
facing insurance policies, getting medical treatment, a few calls
from family and friends ...
and he’s okay.
I threw a heavy stone
in my heart
and it broke me,
tears kissed my face
and I cleansed my soul with them.
Few minutes later he texted:
“in 20 min. time I’ll be home,”
and I wondered if this will
happen for the sixth time,
if he’ll survive another tragedy.
But whispers of hope said,
“you’re blessed, he’s blessed. be grateful. all is well.”
And I was okay.

Inhale all the pain,
Exhale a story of strength,
and poetic growth.

inhale
barely living, surviving
day dreams of being hit driving
crying myself to sleep
doesn't work to count sheep
hating who i am
minds a broken dam
thoughts flooding inside
i just want to hide
i never want to wake
nothing to give or take
feeling done with it all
fist punching the wall
am i mad
or am i sad
i don't know anymore
my inside is sore
i can't be fixed
feelings so mixed

exhale.

We dream,
We dream because,
We dream because there's hope in dreams.