love
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I’m done binding sorrows into books,stitching grief with every line.Let my pen learn lighter alphabets—words that rise like bread,ink that blooms like dawn on your skin. These hands, wrinkled as old manuscripts,will smooth into new stories.No more erasing what was lost;I’ll write forward,planting laughter like punctuationin fertile white spaces. You’re no longer a characterI conjure…
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“Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love;…
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When I was five, I was a lost boy,a Peter Pan with a heart full of Neverland,and I didn’t want to grow up.I’ve always had a hard time letting go—of things, of moments, of the small universethat spun around me at five years old. To give up being five felt like betrayal.My world was a…
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“I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.”— William Ernest Henley, from “Invictus” (1875) Bathsheba, Veiled in MistI watch, unblinking,through the shadowed pane—I’m a silhouette cloaked in intent,my gaze a thread you can’t hold.Your form falters under my stare,cloth clings too tight,a confession I don’t need to hear.I feel…
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There are sanctuaries where I lose myself, where the world blurs into a soft hum and I am untethered, free. Writing and reading, of course, are the steady flames—ink spilling like a river over the page, words unfurling like petals in my mind. But there is another, a wilder refuge: running. It’s a solitary dance,…
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What movie or TV series have I watched more than five times? There are likely a few contenders, but one stands above the rest: Chariots of Fire. This film entered my life in the 1980s, a golden era when I was in the prime of my youth—running track and cross country, chasing fleeting romances, and…
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So, I wake up early because I crash early—makes sense, right? But 1:30 a.m.? That’s not early; that’s just rude. I tried to zen out, refusing to grab my phone or flip on the lights—basically avoiding the overstimulation trap I used to fall into with my little girls. Back when they were 1 or 2,…
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that love endures, even when you don’t tend to it as closely as you should The last thing I’ve learned—truly learned, in a way that settles into your bones and rearranges the way you see the world—came to me just last night, over a quiet dinner with my sister. It was one of those moments…
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A Fifth of Jack Blank pages later,you etched your name into my mind—a spark I could never quench. Pastel prose and smeared art,oil vibrant yet marred,a still life rewritten in hesitant strokes. In charcoal hues my heart smolders;pain shatters into shards of broken glass,a quiet river of a bitter past. You turn the page—an indifferent,…
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“In you, I am willingly and unwillingly lost and found—drawn into the pull of fate, captivated by the unexpected, and caught between hesitation and the irresistible force of you.” -bb grey
BB Grey--musings 