Time. When you keep track of it, you slow it down, but if you don't, you let it off its leash and it moves on without you knowing. Why would you let it move on without you knowing where it's going? That's why you keep track, why you keep a stack of documents that say what … Continue reading A New Era
Author: B.K Laurel
As it says in my tagline: I'm just a writer writing about love because that's what all the cool kids are falling into these days. However, the type of love I write about is based more on the likeliness of modern day heartbreak. I originally started this blog as an outlet for therapy. I believe writing soothes the mind and allows us to express our feelings, which is exactly what I do here -- but in the form of poetry and spoken word pieces. I began writing in 2016 and I like to think the content I put out is relatable and hard-hitting since there's nothing new under the sun. You'll come to find I struggle a lot but without struggles, there is no growth, and believe me, I am growing.
Slowly, I am working towards publishing my own works. Gallimaufry (one of the categories here on my blog) is one of them. I'm also in the process of writing, "war & peace", "where two hearts unify as one", & "i sold my heart to buy yours".
Until then, feel free to linger around and read a few of my pieces; if you like what you see, be sure to hit the follow button at the bottom of my page to keep up with my posts and like & comment as you wish!
Other than that, thank you for reading my About Me page!
I'll be seeing you,
B.K. Laurel
unforgettable.
If I could forget about you, I would. Not because I regret what we were but because our memories aren’t a blur and in my head they stir every second of everyday; because they remind me of how I couldn’t make you stay. I remember when I fell inlove with your stubbornness but in the … Continue reading unforgettable.
my keyhole to the future.
If I lived in an apartment, I would want there to be at least three rooms. One of which I’d make my bedroom, the other my workspace and the last room a guest room. My bedroom would have a long and wide shelf for all my books and classics and a nightstand by my queen … Continue reading my keyhole to the future.
pinocchio love.
When you told me you loved me, your nose grew. why it grew I never knew. until someone told me it's what you do, when you lie.
yours truly.
Ask me to marry you in a constellation. Kneel down on one knee looking to me saying you want us to be Something more than what we already are Saying our love began with one star and then it multiplied like the sky With every passing day that lives, breathes, and dies. Look to me with admiration, Tell me I give … Continue reading yours truly.
How It Feels to Be Failure Me
Failure. Countless hours of studying, countless sleepless nights, wanting to be the best I can be but I just can’t seem to get it right. My favorite subject was Chemistry but to no avail, it ended me. If that statement shows ambiguity, let me rephrase: I passed with a C. Study sessions, late night frustrations, … Continue reading How It Feels to Be Failure Me
O’ Mystic River.
Lay upon me, thy depths of thy waters, Lay upon me good graces my Father. Let the path of the stream wash over my fears, May the only thing it carries is the stream of my tears. O' Mystic River. Thou shall not dream to be something worth more, Than the bounties of nature nor … Continue reading O’ Mystic River.
after everything.
I surmise thats just "your thing" to presuppose, yet never know that it’s not exactly what you think my feelings, like clothes, have the ability shrink You think of me when you’re lonely now that is an accusation but isn’t it at night when you feel lonely? could the dark setting be the causation? You … Continue reading after everything.
2 seconds on the clock.
the man was gay and dead the green light had just turned red people just stared as he bled “its california, victims sue.” the bystander said and its true that they do what the bystander said my mother and i had just walked the path with 2 more seconds to spare as soon as we … Continue reading 2 seconds on the clock.
B.K Laurel 