We tangled in tropes,
two archetypes in love with the idea of change,
but never the act itself.

You thought I was the manic pixie dream girl,
a glittering deus ex machina sent to save you
with whimsy and wild eyes,
but I was just tired—
carrying too many rewrites in my pockets,
each one heavier than the last,
all of them missing their endings.

I thought you were the brooding antihero,
mystery wrapped in shadow,
a walking epilogue with smoldering regret,
but you were just scared—
your silence a monologue
no audience could bear to sit through,
your pauses dragging like curtain calls
for plays that never finished.

We wrote each other into scenes
with props we didn’t know how to use,
a wine glass left unbroken,
a door no one ever slammed.
The spotlight flickered between us,
a dim bulb refusing to hold
all the things we wouldn’t say.

When the script fell apart,
we blamed the writer,
the lighting, the set—
anything but the truth:
we were always the ones
tearing pages from the book,
ripping them before the ink had time to dry,
our story left trailing ellipses,
a script still curled on the floor,
waiting for hands that never returned.

The creator of this "PAIN" is YOU!!
Of All that you have PUT ME THROUGH,
Just MOPING AROUND and FEELING SO BLUE,
Here FIGURING out what I SHOULD INITIALLY DO!!!

IT'S TIME to CUT THESE STRINGS,
From this, we could NO LONGER HANG,
To me, it ain't NOTHING BUT A THING,
Relasing you, ALONG WITH THE PAIN!!

It was "YOU" who CREATED this TRAUMA,
It was "YOU" who had BROUGHT ALL THE DRAMA,
A POSITIVE BEGINNING is NOW MY MANTRA,
I SENT YOU PACKING and BACK YOUR MAMA.

No MORE PAIN,
NO MORE SUFFERING and
NO MORE SORROW,
I'M JUST PUSHING THROUGH
FOR A BEAND NEW TOMORROW,

OF ALL OF THE PAIN and
ALL OF THE FURY,
YOU ARE OUT MY LIFE,
I HAVE NO NEED TO WORRY!!

The SUFFERING IS GONE,
THERE IS NO MORE PAIN,
I CAN FINALLY BREATHE, AND
NOW, I AM HAPPY AGAIN!!!


B.R.
Date: 12/31/2024

The streets are dark,
on Christmas eve;
with none to rule & conquer darkness...
Staring at an abyss...thinking there's hope,
the long Halloween's nightmare lies still...
Snow slowly stranding shadows upon such a splendid slumber - this macabre alley presumed a plain phantasm.
The scent of chestnuts...flattered nothing but a bitter sweet souvenir;
even you...resemble a phantom of grief!
That terrace taught turmoil & tragedy,
on Christmas day;
all reunited to cherish cruelty & carve out hypocrisy from honesty...

~ A. Rose

The things I'm told
I do not know
They once were clear
But now I question them with desperation
Is this real?
Is this truth?
Of course this is reality he says
Behold
This is truth
There's no being misled
Why would someone deceive you just to get ahead?
Or is it...
Just to get IN your head?
My mind is fine
I know to believe the things I've been told
No need to question what he's said
I go ahead and trust with conviction
I tell you no lies...
Brain squeaks a bit here
I'm filled with fear
Is that truth or am i mistaken?
Did that really happen?
I hear these words that now make no sense
These stories that don't add up
They just don't make sense
Are they jumbled in my mind?
Or is everything just fine?
Am I going crazy?
I'm not sure
Am I?

(a poem in Senryus)

Let’s rerun the play,
take up strings, so the puppets
can start fresh their dance.

Summon the old ghosts—
Shakespeare’s doomed heroes
—pronounce them reborn.

Recall the actors,
lead horses from their pastures,
raise the curtains.

Pay Shylock his pound
of flesh, give Richard his horse,
let Viola love anew.

Old, ever-hallowed
villainy, once banished,
has taken new stage.

Human suffering,
live—don’t fret, you won’t miss it
—it’ll come to you.
.
.
Songs for this:
Kool Thing by Sonic Youth
End of the innocence by Don Henley
The Perfect Idiot by Fievel Is Glauque

P and I became

friends when my companion fell --


into a ravine.

Cradle nights and rocking thoughts-
tears stained in star dust, rising breaths shot by
the rockets burning at your throat. You had a smoke
before you’ll come and go- who could have known
the worry pressed against your heart, after that hovering
press of your thumb to send that message on your phone.

“Hey could you pick me up, I didn’t sleep at home,”
you slept over at the place you shouldn’t have- you
usually sleep alone; but how he kept an open mind and
open conversation; being the best intention and attention
someone could give you to keep you close.

It felt so good to be heard, for someone to put you
on top while he slept on the floor- but you grow jaded,
knowing that its going to be really awkward between you
both; spending the night with your best friend’s crush
The one you couldn’t tell her you had known long before;
having a bit of a fling before- but hoping no one would
actually know.

But as soon as she comes around to pick you up,
to take you back home- oh she’ll certainly know.

I
was a crab
and you
were an aphorism
for a broken heart.
and I hate metaphors.

I
am a crab
alone in this field
as the moon glimmers along
my spiked shell.
but you’d moved on.