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SF 7d
Hola, soy yo de nuevo
¿Me acuerdas?
De pronto no,
Y sinceramente no importa.

Hola, soy yo de nuevo,
Vine a buscarte a tu colegio
¿Me recuerdas?
Olvídalo, soy un desconocido.

Hola, soy yo de nuevo
Te sigo pensando a pesar de todo,
¿Me recuerdas?
Uh... Me miras feo,.disculpa me equivoqué.

Hola, soy yo de nuevo,
Vaya, al parecer no me reconoces,
Bueno, gracias por tu tiempo,
Aunque no lo sepas un desconocido te extraña...

Hola, soy yo de nuevo,
Perdón tanta insistencia,
Sigo sin dejar de pensarte,
Ojalá te vuelva a ver.

Hola soy yo de nuevo,
Ojalá dejar de escribir esto,
Y simplemente te vuelvas a aparecer,
Si, estos son gritos de ayuda.
BMElla Jul 30
1
Wise it is to live for a muse!
I know what the myth’s say:
’All about him you’ll obey’.

“For you, darlin’, I’d steal the sun,
Give you its rays for a tan
In the arctic spring.” he vowed.

Have we spoken the same language?
A stranger, familiar in behavior,
Like we were dating,
Each with a different passage.

Only recently,
I saw him pass me in the corridor,
Then it was the rapture,
Of a moment I wish to capture.

I wish we’d talk more,
Like we did before,
“Neglect” became his middle name,
And “Forget” was his pen name.

But darlin'
Have you heard?
I haven’t spoken a word
Ever since you returned
To the beast, I’ve tamed.

“Don’t play with my nerves,
Push me to the edge of a sword!”
I’m just a dried-up corpse,
Forgotten by the undertaker,
In the cemetery of love.

“Nothin’ grows in the bones!” hurled the stones
Then what’s with these flourishing lies,
Stinging my spine like thorns?

“Too sane to give birth to a fool!” he shout,
But my mind was set,
By Achlys* herself!

Honor was lost on you,
And virtue fell out of my lap
Like an aborted child.

2
Beside a martyred virtue
Lies rested and demons nested
Under the tattooed eyelids,
Of a mind sotted by moonlight.

Will my smoke make me loose,
And lose my breath and conscious
Up those cinema rows
Where I watched all of his shows?

It’s just psychodrama!
Baby, don’t worry,
Endless scenes of trauma,
Blurring my eyes to Nirvana.

I see you had it all,
Except a picture of me by your side,
Walking down the aisle.

You crossed my legs in two,
Then blamed it on the shoe
I wore just to please you!

You don’t know the pain
It takes to win this game
And write a name other than ‘Shame’...

As above so below the waters,
Of the lucid swirls
Where his nets cought all the pearls.

Like a parasite entering the cells
He damaged the shells,
Of the nesting oysters.

How gritty it must be!
Wood grain layers
Rubed on glass teeth,
No wonder you’d bleed
Amidst your venomous speech.

In a bluish night,
I lingered in white sweat,
Never loved you… right?
Now it’s turning into a fight.

God, I wish you’d be quiet!
For once, hear my heart as it knocks
On the locked gates of the Heavens’.

“Come'n count the beats
Of a lady turning into a freak,
Lounging seven feet deep

In an ocean of tears, the mermaids chant.
" Just a ghostly ship echoing nonsense!"
I cut my ropes like the braves
And drowned... before the tide turned.

I bled in braille,
Hoping you’d trace me
But " His heart isn't the harbor
To your graceful warship..."
So said the truth its last word.

3
I’ve been dreamin’
Of Paradise screamin’.
As I laid bare my apathy,
And clothed it in defiance.

His name still itches
On the back of my tongue,
I swallowed it down,
With every lie he hung.

Lit a cigarette on his memory
And let my lungs burn
In the mourning smoke.

"Is he still hooked on our story,
Or was I just a line in his diary,"
Crossed, smudged, miswritten?

This is no love poem,
It’s an autopsy,
an anatomy
Of what was never born
But still died inside.

Some moonless nights
I hear his laughter
Echoing in the waves
Of an upcoming disaster.

Foolish it is to die for a scar!
Just another scar in my sails
That never quite blends, with the rest.

© B.M.Ella (2025)
*Achlys:
a figure in Greek mythology, often depicted as a personification of sorrow, misery, and the death-mist that clouds the eyes before death.
Shawn Oen Jul 26
This Blessed Sip of Life

“Hello, how are you doing today
I hope I find you feeling healthy”—
your smile broke like spring after too long a winter.
We met by chance,
but it felt like gravity had drawn us in.

“Could I love you? Could you love me?”
The world held its breath.
Your laugh said yes before your mouth ever did.

“Say, my love, I came to you with best intention
You laid down to give to me just what I’m seeking.”
And you did.
So I asked,
“Kiss me, won’t you kiss me now?”
Because I wanted to give you everything and asked for nothing in return. Other than joy.

We stitched our lives together with whispered promises.
“Hold my hands, your hands—
So much we have dreamed.”
Your hand in mine,
the future felt like a secret only we understood.

“Oh, please, lover, lay down
Spend this time with me.”
And we did,
under stars that blinked in approval.

Children came.
And laughter.
And little hockey skates by the door.
“Celebrate we will
Because life is short but sweet for certain.”

We were a painting in motion,
“Our love is so right—
Forget the clouds that rain down on you.”
Two of us. Anything felt possible.
“Two of us together, we could do anything, baby.”

But time speaks in silence.
One day, I noticed the pause between our words.
“You could look inside and see what’s on my mind
I let you down, oh, forgive me.”

I did try.
You did too.
But something between us shifted.
The PTSD became too much and we didn’t know how to navigate.

“You crush me, with the things you do,
and I do, for you, anything too.”
That balance turned to burden.
If only we had worked on our mental fitness rather than turning on each other.

“I fall so hard inside the idea of you,”
not you—
not anymore.

“Wanna stay but I think I’m gettin’ outta here.”
And you did. And so have I.

“Everybody asks me how she’s doing
Since she went away
I said I couldn’t tell you
I’m OK, I’m OK.”
But I wasn’t.

I replay the good days
like old home videos.
“Ride my bike down the old dirt hill
First time without my training wheels.
First time I kissed you I lost my legs—
Bring that beat back to me again.”

“I know I’ll miss her later
Wish I could bend my love to hate her.”
But I never could.

“This blessed sip of life, is it not enough?”
Some days, it feels like it is.
Other days, I drink it down bitterly.

“And we were so much younger
Hard to explain that we are stronger.”
But we are.
Just not together anymore.

“Stay, beautiful baby
I hope you stay, American baby.”
You didn’t.
But I hope you found whatever you were looking for….
So many words unsaid.

“And if I don’t see you
I’m afraid we’ve lost the way.”
Maybe we have.

But still,
“I shall miss these things.”
The laughter in your eyes.
The weight of your head on my shoulder.
The silence between our words.

“Lovely lady, I am at your feet, oh God I want you so badly.
And I wonder—this: could tomorrow be so wondrous as you there sleeping?”
It once was.

And though
“I let you down—
How could I be such a fool like me?”
I carry no bitterness.
Only love.
Faded, but still honest.

“But I do know one thing—
And that’s where you are, is where I belong.”
Was.

And maybe
that’s enough.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.
I saw some artwork on paper recently. Music lyrics on paper used to make an actual drawing. And I wanted to make something similar but poetry…..this is raw and very much a work in progress.
What did I do wrong?
I gave you what I had
What I felt like giving
Somehow it wasn’t enough
          —————   Yet also too much

To be honest, I had written you off
Before we had even met
Because how could someone like you
Ever fall for someone like me?

I did not plan to fall
                      Told myself, “take it slow”
But looking into you eyes,
                        I slipped so easily
You felt like coming home
                       And I let my guards down
Hoping and dreaming:
                        this might be it
It wasn’t!

I gave you what I had
   ———— My time
    ————my love
        ———my compassion
It wasn’t much, but it was mine to give
Somehow it was too much
Because you wanted less

How do I give less than how I feel?
                    I do not know!
I give all I have, and it’s too much…
…….. yet it’s never enough
                                         to make them stay
Shawn Oen Apr 26
Autumn Blaze

We dug the hole one quiet fall,
The leaves around us red and small.
A sapling slight, with roots still bare,
We gave it space, we gave it care.

Autumn Blaze, its name be true,
A fire that someday might break through.
We watched it lean, then helped its stand,
As winds moved strongly across our land.

Now look—it towers, bold and wide,
Its branches stretching toward the sky.
While others stall or wither in place,
Ours climbed with calm and patient grace.

It wasn’t just the sun and rain,
But hands that worked through joy and strain.
Like marriage, like a love once bright,
It rose because we did it right.

But love’s not just what’s built and grown—
It’s what you keep, and nurture, and own.
And somewhere in the in-between,
We lost the roots once so serene.

The tree still thrives, tall as a prayer,
While silence lingers in the air.
And I can’t help but see the cost—
Of something strong that still was lost.

We could have trimmed, we could have healed,
We could’ve fought, we could’ve kneeled.
Like tending bark or guarding flame,
Love asks for more than just a name.

So now that tree, it holds my gaze—
A monument to better days.
To what can grow and still be gone—
A blaze that burned, and then moved on.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved
Shawn Oen Jul 9
The Hug That Never Happened

They sat in silence, inches apart,
Two aching chests, one broken heart.
A single word could bridge the gap,
But pride stood tall, a cruel mishap.

The morning light through curtains poured,
Like grace that neither one implored.
A touch, a glance, a soft “I’m sorry”—
Could’ve rewritten all the story.

She brushed her teeth, stared at the stream,
He watched the wall, lost in a dream.
Each waiting for the other’s cue,
To do what both just meant to do.

A hug—just that. No grand parade.
No speeches long, no debts repaid.
Just arms around and tempers softened,
The kind of peace they’d both forgotten.

But silence grew where love had been,
A slow erosion, paper-thin.
And lawyers came with suits and sighs,
To drain their banks and split the ties.

No scandal flared, no great affair,
Just missed connections, vacant stares.
The final line, a quiet shrug—
All for the lack of just one hug.

Now a year has passed, and so has he—
The boy who once sat on their knee.
He builds his walls with heavy care,
Afraid of love that won’t be there.

He flinches when voices start to rise,
He searches truth behind goodbyes.
He wonders why the warmest homes
Can turn to halls where no one roams.

His laughter, once so quick to bloom,
Now echoes softer in his room.
He says he’s fine, but in his eyes—
You see the cost of grown-up lies.

And they—the two who chose to part,
Now carry shards inside their heart.
Two separate lives that once were whole,
Now ghosted by a half-lived soul.

They fake their smiles, they learn to cope,
They grip at joy, they reach for hope.
But every quiet night reveals
A wound that time just never heals.

They’ll build new paths, they’ll find their way,
But something pure got lost that day.
For all the things they rose above—
They’ll never quite outrun that love.

Two people who will always ache,
For what they lost, and didn’t take.
And all because, when push had come,
They chose the cold and not the hug.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved
Shawn Oen Jul 23
Two Wheels, One Heart (Almost)

I dreamed of roads not walked but wheeled,
Of gravel paths and tires sealed,
Of sunlit mornings side by side,
You, and me, on a morning bike ride.

I’d speak in tones both sweet and bold,
Of frames in purple and gears of gold,
“A bike that’s built with you in mind—
Se xy, safe, fast…a rare design.”

I pictured trips with maps unrolled,
Family tours through fields and corn,
Picnics packed and tires spinning,
Memories made, the whole clan grinning.

But your eyes never matched my pace,
No spark, no thrill lit up your face.
You’d gently smile—or just say no,
And let the hope fall soft as snow.

You turned me down, again, again,
My offers met with cool refrain.
My Hail Mary: “A gym?” I asked. “Yoga?”
You shook your head, just told me no.

I bargained dreams, I begged, I tried,
But saw the truth you couldn’t hide.
This wasn’t yours—it’s mine alone,
No shared pursuit, just me, wind-blown.

So I let go the tandem view,
Strapped on my shoes, chased skies of blue.
With friends I ride, with legs set free,
But still, I’d wished you’d ride with me.

Some passions bloom, some seeds don’t grow—
Love makes space to let that show.
And though you’re not beside my wheel,
I ride on strong. I ride and heal.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.
I wrote most of this in 2022 while on a solo trip to Kansas to do Unbound for the first time.
I’m sorry I loved you like that,
like my soul already knew you.

Not just the magnetic force of you,
but every version you buried:
the boy who flinched,
the man who ran,
the heart that never thought it was worth staying for.

I saw it all,
the shadows, the fractures,
the beautiful, broken mess of you.
And I loved you anyway.

I’m sorry I loved you
the way I did,
with everything,
when you were only ever half-open.
I’m sorry for the love
your hands weren’t
steady enough to hold.
I’m sorry I still carry it,
fiercely, quietly,
like it has no expiration date.
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