poetry
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for my son, who flew toward his own sun It’s always been a sin, hasn’t it?To want too much.To hope.To leave.To stay. The days with you—man once a boywaiting for eggs I’d scramblelike penance,as the toaster hummed its tired absolution,those mornings are rosaries now,threadbare prayersslipping through guilty hands. You make your own breakfastin a city…
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“She didn’t leave scars—she left blueprints for where to break me again.” bb grey She cut mejust to watch me bleed—her hands steady, eyes dry,as if pain were an old habit,and my heart, a toolfor remembering how to feel. She smiledas I broke—that slow, deliberate smileof someone who knowsexactly where your soulstill flinches. She sleptnot…
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Lanterns Gone to Sea This morning came with plans and lines,A house to build, a roof to frame.The page held purpose, measured signs,Not quite the same as love, or flame,But something steadier, less to blame. I traced the framing joists by hand,The ink a kind of slow release,Each line a thing I understand,Unlike the words…
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not just one day.. “The Walk Down Gravel”for Mr. Graham, Vietnam Veteran It’s Sunday.The grass glistens with dew—tiny glass beads strunglike prayers along every blade,hydrating the earthfor the coming summer heat. Across the street,Mr. Graham’s black trash can stands at attention—a quiet salute to the curb,ready for duty.Only, it’s not trash day. Tuesday is the…
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What the Mirror Cannot Holdfor the one who stays This morning, again,I looked into the mirror.Not to admire—but to assess the damage.A wrinkle deepens by my mouth.My skin forgets its old light.A tenderness in my jointssings its low, persistent song. The world does not mourn this shift.It sells creams and knivesand digital masks.It tells me—I…
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“Some people leave quietly. Others leave a silence that echoes for years.”— Unknown i packed our memoriesin a suitcasestamped return to senderbut the postage was dueand no one would pay so i carry you stillfolded between my ribslike a crumpled letterthat once said foreverbut now only bleeds you made everythinga little more beautifuleven the sadnessthat…
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it is everythingi can dojust to feel the low humbuzzes behind my eyesand the tearsdo not ask permissionthey fall i wipesalt from my facewith the same handsi once usedto fold in prayer i promised Godi would hold on but i forgethow many timesi’ve promisedand unpromised he got me throughoncethat one timethat almost ended me and…
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“Some loves are written in duet, but end in solo—not because the song was wrong, but because the silence asked for something new.” bb grey The crescendos quiet now,fortes fading to a hush,sixteenth notes slipping into silence,rests long enough to echo absence. Once, we were music,her right hand, light and wild,dancing treble,mine the left—rooted, steady,the…
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The questions rattle like wind-chimes in a storm,searching the horizon where the sky kisses the sea,that blurred and trembling placewhere I almost remember how to cry. I am breaking.There are no words to cradle it.Only silence, vast as tidepoolsleft behind by receding grace. If you could feeljust a shadowof the emptiness inside me,you might get…
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*Just having a little of a haiku kind-a of fun with an earlier write— Amber glint captured—a brunette leans at the bar,eyes caught by the flameinside a Macallan’s heart—aged swagger, quiet fire. No ice, no pretense—she orders him straight and bare.Glass heavy with want,both hands trace the cold, round rim,breath brushing oak, spice, leather. First…
BB Grey--musings 