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Three summers since we first met.
On hot nights we'd rendezvous and laid
Together under the stars,
Poured out our hearts;
Long drives in our cars.

Two summers since we parted.
That was when your eyes started
To look away, darted.
I kept trying to call you
But again and again we'd argue.
It broke me to say "We're through."

One summer since I bumped into your friends.
I was anxious, I fiddled with my hands.
Truthfully, my love for you transcends
The time and distance that parted us.
They say you tried to disguise
Your pain but you still love me. That gave me a rush.

-m.b
Breathing bodies won't hear me cry
and so I started singing to the sky;
About you. Your smile and kindness,
how are people blind from this?
The smoothness of your stalk,
the richness of your tone when you talk.
The delicate way of holding your
stick of nicotine between your fingers.
How you seem to fool everyone
that you're pernicious but there's not a bad bone
in your body, my sweet.
I don't see it when we meet.
Cause when you speak I see stars glimmering
and warm waves crashing.
The softness of the breeze
during a 5.45pm sunset, swaying trees
whispering good omens for hidden,
lost souls. You breathe in
life and exhale an aura of wisdom,
masked by lackadaisical freedom
of expression. They don't read between
the lines to unfurl your hidden dreams.
I could go on and on about you
but they don't see the real and raw side of you.

-m.b
I feel like talking about you but I don't want to.
I feel like I should text you but I want you to do it first.
I feel like there's more to you and I want to get to know you more.
I feel like something is brewing but I don't want to hope too much.
I feel like writing more about you but my brain doesn't want to.
I feel a lot of things and when I do I want to turn it into art.
I feel like I should jot them down but my creative side doesn't want to.
I feel this is something else but if it isn't mine, I don't want it.
I can feel that I'm falling deeper but based on my experiences, my crush would never want me back.

-m.b
all that life
in all that light

flesh walking, talking
electric

sparkling jewels
in a black sea

though to me
I gaze and wonder...

who is writing writhing verse?
who is making mad love?

and which bulb
will be the next to burn out?

for all bulbs die
and so will I

but NOT tonight
beguiled by all this light

I will stand
on this lofty ledge

and wonder who
the next walker will be,

to become a soul soundless,
in that eternal black sea
Inspired by pictures of a city at night -- originally a two minute poem, but I accidentally deleted it. I don't know how different the first version was; I do know I liked it more by far.
 Mar 2017 strawberry fields
JC
It's come to pass,
towards the last,
the inevitability
predicted,
long ago.
A solitary path,
traveled alone,
in the dark
and unafraid.
I came
to here
purposeful,
and yet
unintentionally
in spirit,
if not
in body
or in mind.
No one else
laid the way,
or paved it,
rough
with stone.
No, that
I did alone,
a piece
at a time,
burning
all the
should haves
and could haves
and might have been's
on the way.
But then,
in truth,
was there ever,
really,
a choice?
Ask the Lion
if he hunts
to eat,
or to ****,
and wait
eternally
for the
answer
that will
never
come.
I'm at peace
with what's lost,
and will never be,
as the time
to wonder
grows shorter
and moves
with speed and grace
to the end.
I give no time
to wishes,
or regrets,
I don't have
the moments
to spare,
not
any
more.
I'll say
the last
good night,
in my sleep
to the dark,
grateful
for the chance
to have played
the game
at all.
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