Indecent incandescence
The ineluctable insentient
Transcendance
That inevitably transcends
All our sentience
Our intransient ascendants
Are evidently intransigent
Irreverents descended
From irrelevant past tenses
Of evanescent innocents
In essence I recently
Have my reasons
To resent my senses
That sent me again
Into decadance
Their essence
Remains essentially
Interdependent and unaffected
By your effective decrees
Of decreased independence
Demands for the deceased
Senators may be reached
Through seances and signatures
Designed to desensitize
Pieces of our peaceful
Resistance to allegedly
Intelligent reservations
With admirable indignation
These indigenous
Geniuses display divinity
With dignity and ingenuity
And indubitably
Deserve our immediate
And utmost designation
Of authority and self-determination
Signed on time
And delivered by
Intelligible design

I woke up angry.
You were in my dreams again.
I can't remember what it was about but I know your presence anywhere.

I felt sad.
Why did I let myself get dragged with just a flip of your head?

I feel motivated.
You are not allowed to allowed to toy with me again.
No, you don't deserve that.
You don't deserve me.

The sun rises.
I will conquer the world again.
And boy, I'll be a better version of me.
And you can't steal that from me.

-m.b

I will be the one you think of
but right now is not the time.
I will be the reason why you cry, boy
cause what we have is intertwined.
And although your heart is breaking,
I'll be free finally.

You will think of me.

Cause for once, we won't collide.
I'll be the one to smile at you.
Baby, there's nothing to hide.
We were happy once, it's true.
But now we have to go our own ways.

Don't worry, I'll stay tonight.
Holding your head, caressing your hair.
Reminiscing the good times;
The love we've built everywhere.
I know it hurts, we've seen it all.
But every story has an ending.
If we were Troy, this is our fall.
What we had was really something.

Tonight and every night after,
you will think of me.

-m.b

The tears welled up,
fell,
and streamed down
into a river.

My love for you was as natural
as a constellation formation,
as a gathering of storm clouds,
as flowers blooming then wilting.

But I guess it is just
as natural for this to end.
Like the sky clearing up
after a whirling of tornadoes.
Like a bird no longer tweeting
when the night comes.

What tears I've shed,
will be  refilled again.
I have loved, they have left.

But I will love again.
For I am ever growing.
I am made to love and hope.
And I will never run out.

-m.b

We are like DNA strands.
Coming together, intertwined
into a double helix.

Our stories were written
before life breathed in us.

We are similar,
though not identical.
But we come together;
Inseparable. Here we are.

A part of each other,
linked into a ladder.
Together, we make up
as an individual.
We are science at
its finest.

Our love is our hypothesis.

-m.b

There are butterflies in your stomach?
They flutter when you see him;
a furious blush paints your face,
raw brush strokes and
unadulterated emotion
leaving behind a rich pigment
known as cluelessness.
Mix in a bit of pallor,
and it's embarrassment.
They beat their mosaic-printed wings
with a stumble of your feet
or a failed exam,
a 68 in Applied Physics
when you should have pulled a crisp 69.
They find Eden-tier gardens with excitement
on par with that of a pajama-clad kid on Christmas morning,
and I bet you relish in the feeling.
But little did you know,
Miss Little Innocent sitting there
with her head weighed down  
with her heavy thoughts and knock-off Docs
pigeon-toed in a less than symbol
(don't you know that, sixty-eight?),
had elephants,
                          prides of lions,
                                                    *******,
                                                                ­­         the whole savanna
housed inside her ribcage,
bones rattling from deafening roars;
a cognizant mind stumbling from the seismic waves
of leviathan footsteps,
shaking the ground she walks on.
The pain in her chest,
the god awful attempts to provide
for her own microcosmic ecosystem
wracked her frail frame without mercy.
She continued to bounce her knees
and answer your questions
with breathy, exhausting syllables,
but you put yourself out of commission.
You write and write about your butterflies,
but think about how
it must feel to have to accept
lionesses gnawing on your shoulderblades.
Would you ask for your beautiful ******* back?

Sometimes I forget that people change. The people you've been with won't stay with you for long. I get so used to being a part of a group that when I'm back to being a singular or solitary molecule, it feels heartbreaking.

I tend to forget that people change. Like from solid to liquid to gas. Shifting forms as they grow. Blowing up, deflate, compress; changing their mentality, preferences and their whole being to suit their surroundings.

I honestly keep forgetting the part that we'll never really remain solid. We're real life forms, changing into complex, different states of matter. And sometimes when I think there are only three states, I discover that they change into a fourth one. Or more. And I can't remain the same as what I prefer or feel comfortable with.

-m.b