Untitled Poem

This is where we are
When we are alone
When we are touching
After the storm comes rain
And we touch like this
Paved bodies
Dampened skin
Breathing with tethered hearts
Are we together or are we not?
We can be sealed
With stones, gems, and silver
Gold, metal, and crystal
Eternity; we can attempt to make
Goodbye and hello
It's all the same
This one craves comfort
This one loves pain
And we twist and turn
Beneath blankets with strangers
Even when we are alone
The silence is inside of us
We lay touching and asleep
What truly does this do?
Awake now, how do you feel?
Tell me the way you see me
And where your heart has been
You are healed in this moment
Suddenly, you are broken
Balance with whom?
When even you are a stranger
In your own darkness
Lets see you be bright
You know that feeling
When you shine by yourself
Love is shining in this way
Let's do it, my love
A simple gesture
A sweet smile
A heart with a lid
In a melting pot
I seek the shyness that is you
That is your love
That is so rare
Because soon you carry on
And lose sight of this
And when you leave me
It's gone.

~ B

Love Workers Mind

His exhaustion
Hits it's peak
At the top of a mountain
Tumbling down a dirt road
Him and I
We begin to bicker

I turn my cheek softly to say
We should stop
Before I yell
He laughs
In a falling silence
Where we are whole again

Slumbers in the night
This is him and I
Hard working hands
Sore swollen feet
We lay intertwined
Love is in this night

When dawn arrives
He is gone
Pushing for pennies and dimes
I am walking
Strapped to this surface
To heal kind and wrinkling eyes

Him and I
We meet again
To laugh
To sleep
Within the whole of my heart
Voided space is being filled

Tonight, I found his tired soul
Through spoken words
Of mangled distress
Counterfitting themselves
Into assembly
We; the love workers mind.

~ B

More

Over done unraveling
Again and again
Trying to figure out
The long line of sanity
Making the inner decoder
Hungry for more discovery
In this you continue to pace
Negotiating with currancy
A dollared sign that teaches so well
Using the seed of language
To turn you ripe with greed
Filling minds, filling bellies
Housing all of our insecurities
In this you turn to ask
What else?
What is more?
As if the work isn't enough
Hard labor that turns to gold
And we marvel at these sights
These places we see
These days we live
The accomplishments we devour
More is the thing that you build
On a long line, unraveling
That has yet to reach it's end.

~ B