Meow.

While watching you I couldn’t help
but be reminded of a nature
documentary in which the jaguar
stalks its guileless victim.

The way your eyes followed me
trying to determine the least
amount of movements it would take
until your satisfaction of the kill.

But little does the hunter know
that I am a lion in sheep’s clothing
and it is always the lion that
enjoys the rule of the feline pride.

 

BB

Meow.

I Don’t Know If I Can Miss You, But I’ll Remember You

Whispered voices try to comfort me
and I say that I am doing fine-
I do not know how to miss
something that was never mine.
We were both forces of nature
on opposing sides most days
a chess board just for us of
attacking and counterattacking plays.
I can remember both the good and the bad
and find sleep with ease tonight
without having to wonder if
the decisions I made were right.
You and I were veterans of funerals
and you were ready to take your turn
but I’m still here with a whisky neat
thinking of you while I enjoy the burn.
I will wear a black dress once again
but without your hand to hold
amongst the tombstones I will know
it is a privilege to grow old.

BB

I Don’t Know If I Can Miss You, But I’ll Remember You

Typewriter
I am not pretty like the girls
that are champagne and roses-
I tend to favour the company
of whiskey and dahlias and
lipstick darker than my blood.
Ink on the tips of my fingers
has become my manicure of choice
and I wear more black than
a nun at night, but consider this:
maybe my sense of beauty
comes from the lack thereof.

Please do not be afraid
to sacrifice what others call beauty
in order to be who you are.

BB

The Choices Of Our Youth

We said it was carpe diem
but really we were just
your average warmongers;
we took what we wanted
when it suited us and
did not think twice about
the bridges we incinerated
along the way.
The cost of every victory
from the battles of our youth
lie in the faces of people
we no longer know
in the ways we were certain
we always would.

BB

The Choices Of Our Youth

Ship, Meet Wreck

He was a boat maker in torn blue jeans
and she, a shipwreck in red lipstick.

He would lovingly bend the boards
and she then ripped apart the planks.

He used the gentleness of his nature
and she was powerless to the storm of hers.

The boat it floated though it creaked
and filled with water on every sail.

They knew it would end in beautiful disaster
but until then any day on the ocean

was a good one.

BB

Ship, Meet Wreck