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Betrayal of childhood wonder.
Betrayal of emotional honesty.
Betrayal of intuition, soul and harmony
Betrayal of truth, In exchange
For appearance and frame, a prolific role
Identity hollow

Eternally Blasphemous
Violates a sacred promise
Wounds  personal essence, let’s be honest
Ruptures relationships of intimacy
The word adult is not use in the book I read

Spiritual unfaithfulness
Adulterous. Adulterer. Adultery.
Betrayal begins in the heart it bleeds
Boundless unconditional child within
Please begin to vividly dream again.
I realized the word adult is not use in the Bible but adulterous adulterer or adultery is. So to me becoming an adult is to betray that unconditional boundless child that knows no limits. For my peers reading this on the latest please Check some of my favorites like The Love Flower , Michael El Nopal , Current, Echo of light, Etc.
"Croissant of Confusion"

Your layers spiral inward,  
a buttery maze without a map—  
I bite the edge, get lost in curves,  
crumbs falling like questions.  

Is it pastry or pastry’s dream?  
I’m too entranced to care which.
...another form the food fun suite. Hope you enjoy!
 Jul 30 Chuck Kean
BMElla
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.
~ for Paula Poundstone~

brain has its own calendar,
alarms, forget~me~nots, nat-ur-ally,
seeds and scraps of half-breed poems,
even its own junk drawer, with extra
keys, pocket tissues, swiss army knives

call 'em appoint-moments,
random and scheduled,
though not always attentive paid

no longer needy for post-it notes,
reasons why I may I have come to a
particular room in search of a) b) or see

now, I just need to remember to take
my brain with me,
which is much harder than you
'think'

the Mothman Cometh in dead of night
who knows his pain
who knows his plight
left unchecked in their faulty haste
born in pools of chemicals and waste
a slip of nature
he roams the skies
with wings of a condor
and red blazing eyes

it is said he had vanished
when the bridge came down
but I believe he remains
at the outskirts of town
I have been to Point Pleasant
and his presence I feel
on the river
on the streets
in the steps of John Keel
I have stories
If you ask me,
How are you doing?
I’ll smile,
Tuck the truth behind my teeth,
and say
“I’m fine.”
But if you pause,
look me in the eyes,
and ask again,
“No, how are you really doing?”
I might just tell you…
I’m tired
of living in a world where my worth
is measured in paychecks and productivity.
Where rest feels like guilt,
and ambition, a cage with velvet lining.
I am overwhelmed.
Buried in deadlines,
chasing dreams that leave blisters on my feet,
because I know what I want for my life
and I know it won’t come cheap.

Love?
I flinch at the thought.
Not because I haven’t loved,
but because I’ve inherited the heartbreak
of women who taught me to be cautious,
to hold back,
to never let it all in.
I keep my guard up
steel walls around a soft heart.
And truthfully?
I’m exhausted from the weight of my own armor.
But letting it down feels
too risky.
Too unsafe.
Sometimes,
I sit with the bitterness
of how much I give,
and how little I get in return.
And I wonder,
Is this what “hard work pays off” looks like?
I lie.
To others.
To myself.
I say I’m open,
say I’m healed,
say I’m ready
when love still terrifies me.
I’ve broken down this year
not once,
not twice,
but in silent nights
when nobody was watching.

And I hate that I question people’s motives,
not because I want to doubt them,
but because I have to.
Because trust is no longer my first language.
So yes…
You might ask, “How are you?”
And I’ll still smile.
Still nod.
Still say,
“I’m fine.”
Not because I am
But because,
honestly,
I don’t even know where to start.
Take a time out, give yourself a break. Because nobody will.
Life is painful struggle
made harder by people
Encased in gold resin,
The world we create
Older than you or I could ever say
It knows better than me of sure pain
Demanding your beauty
Still shadow the shame
When I wrote you –
I wrote you a letter today
I was lost in the infinite stretch of your gaze
And I wonder if it ever entered your air
Ever tasted your tongue, ever tousled your hair
Were they were words you would treasure?
Words you would share?
Like a picture, I'm taken
Because I am still there
Encased in your resin,
In the grip of your glare
It is a moment remembered
And I am still there
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