Werewolves vs. Vampires

You say you need fairness
while you
tie a noose around my
ask me to trust you while
you poke
and prod at my exposed

There is no admiration
in this play,
there are no aces in
the deck
you’ve handed me.

I can’t even find my
Queen on
this board of hidden
rules and
crowned revelations.

I could keep trying to
keep lying my neck
on the line
for something that will
never come,
but it can’t account for
because you don’t play
fair and you
don’t keep my feelings
in mind.

It kills me
to say it but I wonder
if she was right;
If you just bite the hand
that feeds and
strangle whenever the need
comes to arise.

If you ignore your own heart
until it stops beating,
like mine.

– B.

Handwriting Analysis

I am the woman who
analyzed the handwriting
of the CEO,
and come Monday
I will be biting my tongue
until I taste the crimson
pool in my mouth like rum.

Should’ve just paid for
a Christmas Party,
Johnny Boy.
You know how much
those meant to these

I want to tell him the best
part of his gift was the fact
he handwrote the tag.
I want to tell him that I know
his tactics,
that I know this is his play
away from home and that
he uses this place as an excuse
to thwart his power in a rather
small pond.

I want to ask him if his wife
knows about his cheating,
and what she must lack
to endure a personality as
petty as his.
I want to ask him if he even
knows his own children,
if they even know themselves.

I want to ask him if he knows
how I know, tell him he’s not
as clever as he thinks he is.
I want to ask him if he feels
a little restricted now, as if
he’s grown out of this skin,
the same one that’s getting
a little tighter by the day.

Money is a dangerous weapon
with a faulty trigger;
The cheap Chardonnay
speaks a level on how he
must view me,
how low he crosses his
T’s and the way in which
he curves his Y’s speaks
volumes on his withering

– B.


Listen to me carefully
when I tell you that
I am like a mirror.

Whatever you give me
I will return tenfold.

If you don’t like the
reflection you see,
you’ve no one but
yourself to blame.



I knew a guy once that
thought I was the devil.
He’d say, ‘girls that
bite into their ice cream
are truly evil,
that’s how you know,’

but mint chocolate chip
is so much better
with a bite,
cools down the burning
or at least
makes the conversation
a bit more bearable.

I’d always mutter back,
‘that’s a thing someone
who couldn’t bite into
their ice cream would

– B.


I think our character is often measured by what is done in comparison to what is said.
Anyone can say anything, but not everyone can live up to who they tout themselves as.

It’s easy to be the best version of ourselves in the confidence of comfort,
It’s difficult to do so in the face of a threat.

Who we are when we’ve lost all control of a situation will always be our truth unmasked.
This is why I often watch a situation unfold before I take a face into consideration.

– B.

If Poems could be People

If poems could be people,
I think I’d find you amongst
the pages of fresh binding,
lining the walls of a library,
coffee permeating the air,
words encircling watercolor
pictures and speaking on
behalf of love.

If poems could be people,
I think you’d find me amongst
the confines of a binding torn
loose with age, weathered by
the storm of perpetual hope,
amidst the dust of a trunk
hidden behind the hallway,
somewhere in the shadows
of the greats.

– B.