The Gamble for Gold

you wouldn’t see it
in the wrinkle of my brow

or know it
even as I told it
with a quivering frown

or hear it
in my shaking voice

how I felt
that I had no choice

but to risk it
and run with it
with you

for a chance
to love again

before it all
fell away again

– B. Brown

(image courtesy of Pinterest)

Shorted

my dress was one of plenty but on me, custom ordered because it suited you. You could touch my knee, inquire about my warmth with a brush on my thigh but you knew I’d stop you before I lit


almost wore the shoes that are as high as I try to be but I didn’t want to give away too much too soon. They were just fine in the sand and my skin, just fine with the lake’s cast off

and I didn’t know what the menu held besides the salmon and green beans that were somehow made into a specialty item, but you clued me in like I knew you could. Knew you would

just like you clued me in on the terrain you snuck me into. I felt the evening time rush while only spruces, pines and ponderosas bared witness to my first move along the board


you knew my twenty-five years hadn’t afforded me the references to your frame of thought, I thought my benefit of the doubt would be truthful if not fruitful


still, the prosthetic affection held my damned attention. While I emphasize the silver linings and sympathize with the shitty timing, my rational picked scraps from your willingness to be risky

and there had never been a roomier truck on a Monday night but you inadvertently had me straying from my younger days when the thrill stifled the screams of an egotistical kill


what kind of woman would invite you in, try to play sweet when she knew she had you on the edge of your seat? Would provide the flint then cringe at the unexpected realization?

the kind that knows her moisture sustains life on other planets, her breathe makes flesh come alive, that her tongue can lap the pressure and spit away grievances, I does this


but you hadn’t planned on paving the entire route, content with just scraping the curb after four months of a dry spell. It only took an ounce to make you levitate

and you hadn’t even ounce of the good stuff that’d really warrant the fuzz. You scampered back to your truck while I was left wishing for at least a buzz

(and thank you for showing me how naive I can really be)

– B. Brown

ViaDailyPrompt: Risky

The Practice

I ready for the surgical fervor

every morning, practicing pain, passion and prayer

unfastening the ego that confines me,

it digests to embody me

encapsulate me as a steriod

too hefty for the faint of heart

loyal to this untraceable art

i do my part, reopening sutures

to diagnose my future

– B. Brown

DailyPrompt: Loyal

It’s Not Me…

it’s not that I didn’t appreciate
the self-made gifts, or the tiny trinkets that trickled
for whatever reason while they were in season
yes, I listened when you spoke
and I learned not to speak during
just as I learned you weren’t there to hear me
and that was just fine, whatever you needed
we know everything
I’ve managed to slipped in was genuine
just like your favorite sad song sung
louder and hotter
until we all broiled
in resentful, cloudy tones
I endured ’cause you weren’t wrong
as no one else was ever right
still, you seemed to try
as the bricks I pried
relieved you’ve never seen me cry
you reminded me of what you are just in time,
right after I came to accept who you are,
a fraud

– B. Brown

via DailyPrompt: Fraud