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I suppose it's better that way.
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So I wouldn't try to say "Hey"
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A hole grows larger in my heart.
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This is absolutely tearing me apart.
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I'm sustained by the memories I keep.
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And by the dreams that haunt me in my sleep.
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I hope you're doing alright.
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And that someone is appreciating you, holding you tight.
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When was the last time
I felt a raving hunger for life?
When had I but an eternity in moments,
on the edge of something vastly different?

How was it me and not you
who staked her soul high
on rolling hills of green,
took long draughts to savour, to condense
the weight of the world into one precious drink,

cup the shortest days in her palm and release them,
for her thoughts to balloon into the wild?

The delectable now—
ripe as berries for plucking in winter,
and all things, like music
must peter
into silence.

So I suppose my question to you
is not concerned with
the stack of newly-minted green in your pocket,
nor the fleet of shiny cars, but
your pure self, simply being.
It’s prodding the heart,
a tiny critter fluttering with wings, wondering:

when will you ever get a second chance at this—
all this storm
and inexplicable happiness—

or will you
go hunting for things,
whirling at mere traces
of power in your name—

or will you turn around
only to find a life
or a lie,
staring back wide-eyed
in endless shame?

© BT

the drummer boy’s
existence is emphasized
not during holidays
or birthdays
but rather onstage
where he’s the true conductor
of the band
I see him as the heart of the band
the lifeline which pumps strength
and keeps the blood flowing

because it is only through his heart
and his beats
when the strings know when to strum
when the cords know when to sing
when the keys know when to play

whenever he’s onstage
whenever the heart beats
it is not only the song which lives
but the band as well

The Repentor

The morning rays lay
a carpet of gold
on the bedroom floor.
Last night I stroked
her long, black hair
while thoughts
Flew high,
back to the first
love of my life.
What I have lost
is forever mine.
Shadows deepen
between us
the carpet fades
the floor board
creaks
under the weight
of regrets.

i’d written line after line
about the look in your eyes
the way i felt like i could die
but what’s the point now
in all those wasted words?
when all that’s left hurts.