Mommy has a little pill.
She takes it every day.
She says it helps her brain work right.
Makes her feel ok.
Without it she can be kind of sad.
Sometimes even mean.
She’ll cry and cry and yell a lot
She doesn’t like to scream.
Mommy’s little pill is small.
But oh so very important.
without it her brain gets foggy
it makes life kind of stagnant
Mommy has a little pill.
It doesn’t change too much.
It’s just one step she takes
to help her feel a little normal.
Because she loves us very much
-b.e.
Hallways
The hallway sits between me and you I wait for you to call me for you to let me in Sometimes you reach for me willingly other days you wait within I feel your hand on the other side pressed to mine again I wait because I love you. I wait knowing you’re always there wishing I was always here. -b.e.
The Walk
His hand brushed mine ever so gently. Just enough to know he was close. My heart raced uncontrollably My face disguised in the night. the shadows of the trees, the moonlit wisps on the walk. crickets sang out the tension, with only just one note. our fingers intertwined. his hand embraced in mine. the warmth of the night. of our skin, of my heart. exposed in just one time. He smiled without a word. Gently squeezed my palm our lives forever changed. in that moment on the walk -b.e.
Eileen
I was only eleven Maybe twelve Old enough to know it was wrong But not enough to fully understand Old enough to want so desperately to be “in” But not enough to know it wasn’t worth it Every day we walked to school Every day we sat at together Thick as thieves My first best friend And then one day they came They said we could join them The cool kids It seems cliche as fuck now after a week or so she pulled me aside She said I had to choose I couldn’t be friends with them And be friends with you too The next morning I handed you a note. And we never spoke again. I made a choice. There’s no excuse. But I still think about it. Even now, in my thirties I still think about you. I wish I could tell you That I’m sorry I wish I could tell you That I got my due That she hurt me as much as I hurt you I learned that year that real friends never make you choose. -b.e.
Not Me
If I ever tell you You should do something else Think about it And then do not listen to me If I ever tell you you’re not good enough Do not ignore me Let it inspire you To prove me wrong Show me I’m ridiculous If I ever make you feel small Call me on it Don’t let it rip you apart Don’t let it ruin your dreams Make me be better I am trying not to be my father I want you not to be me I am trying to break the cycle I want you to be free -b.e.
Her
I don’t like to think of her. She brings up too much anger. She had her own shit going on. It makes it hard to hate her. If not for her, and her prodding, I would have never seen you. If not for her pushing me I might have never loved you. She messed with us. She messed with you. She broke your heart and mine. But as she played and broke us She actually made us stronger Her messed up life worked out for us. And for that much I owe her. -b.e.
The Days We Played
the world is so fucking scary right now she writes to her child but you won't know the worst of it at least not for quite a while we'll ride bikes and color read lots of fairy tales we'll spend more time at home we'll spend more time together so we don't feel alone the world is so much different now it changes day by day but until a time you're old enough these will just be the days we played -b.e.
Unspoken
a shot glass full of whiskey a bright red plastic cup a wounded heart a broken soul that just couldn’t get back up he loved her but couldn’t say it she loved him and couldn’t hide it years of back and forth missed connections mixed up messages her broken heart couldn’t stand to love him so much and just pretend not too so she decided she wouldn’t anymore she’d just stop loving him he stood in a corner watching her his brain wouldn’t let him love her the way he wanted to the way his heart told him too and he just watched her throw back drink after drink trying to wash him away a house full of people a party still raging he walked out before she did she was in another world driven by whiskey and heartache he thought she didn’t notice hours later, a heartache and a headache she sits on a couch in the early dawn of morning ashamed, still heartbroken still a little drunk she texts her friend he’s still that much at least she needs a ride home and he comes he brings her back to her place lays her on his couch with a blanket a glass of water and tylenol he still loves her even if he can’t say it she still loves him even when she tries not too their hands brush finger tips to skin a crash of electricity a realization within he almost lost her once he won’t lose her again
Writer’s Block
The worst feeling in the world is wanting to write but not having the words to do it This overwhelming need to put pen to paper, and yet only a jumble of words bouncing around off imaginary walls. No order, no sense. Just chaos. Like a dictionary that someone ripped apart and pasted back together. Writing just to write, but not having anything to say. I live like an imposter. To say to someone “Oh I’m a writer” “what have you written?” “Oh, nothing really…” Do I count? Am I really a writer after all? I doubt myself More so than usual I’m a writer who wants to write And yet… I have nothing to say -b.e.
b.e. poetry: A place for my words 