Bellio Blob’s Blog

A Boston morning’s first glowing cold

Resolves my need to be cautious and bold

Your winter coat’s pocket a ploy

To touch you while remaining coy

My hand asks yours if it comes here often

For how else does your fabric so soften

Tightly knit hands are a salvation

Sand dunes don't reckon with vast night sky

They sit peacefully and watch the time go by

Fish aren't fazed by the foul oil swirling above

Gliding ignorantly, too content to give a shove

The storm’s angst fades when it grows tired

It realizes repressing the rain isn't required

The leather sofa took one thousand beatings

Before it became comfortable with new greetings

Acceptance is not easy for me.

So, I am jealous of Saturn’s savvy silent submission

Comfortable releasing its rings without inhibition

And begrudging, am I, towards the blue ash left over

That represents the raging fire’s emotional closure

The diamonds mock me because they know

Today,

I wear my black turtleneck.

I thought I’d grow out of it,

a long time ago.

But I know,

It grows as I age.

The only company I’ve forever kept,

I don't sleep easy-

For fear that this stampede of words rushing from my skin,

Will be corralled-

And I will implode

For every day, a dying thought

That sleep caresses away

Like a wave to sand, again

Impossible to catch, again in words

Disappears into a swirl,

That is just a girl.