Too Slow

 

photo-1515240802456-a15637963ee1

Photo by Mauricio Artieda on Unsplash

 

Soft petals fall,

On the ground, too slow.

Who am I, but a distant eye,

Bitterly waiting, on the black crow,

Anxiously eyeing that woody stem,

As stormy winds draw near and wreak mayhem.

Too slow,‘ I say,

The girl on the hill.

The lady behind glass.

Wet cheeks pressed against a shattered window sill.

-N.B.

 

 

Sail Past

 

johannes-plenio-DKix6Un55mw-unsplashPhoto by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash

 

But what forsaken thoughts,

Interrupt my thoughtless day?

For now, I choose distraction,

And guide my mind away.

Should time catch up with this quiet mouse,

And regret’s trap,

snap-

these fragile limbs,

I will be but a pawn,

To a faultless king’s whim.

Perhaps, in a stretch of time,

My bones will tell a tale,

Of a forgotten distant, past,

When a new beginning sets it’s sail. 

-N.B.

An Ode to Love

Tell me what it means to be happy,

Because in this moment,

I can not breathe.

As my heart’s song fills the deep valleys of my lungs,

no words escape my tongue,

But bleed purple ink on worn paper.

 

Tell me what it is to love,

The cracks between your fingers.

To know them like my own,

To mend these broken bones,

And convert my jaded tones.

To fill the wells of tears I shed,

And breathe in the sky with these wings, you spread.

 

Tell me how blind eyes see the desires of my soul?

Because the girl who dwells inside,

is awestruck by your light,

Murmuring sounds of pure delight.

Cheerful liquid fills my eyes,

Peering into yours, there are no lies.

Thou, who sees through my puzzled skin,

And paints strokes of beauty, deep within.

-N.B.