Ana: Favorites

May 2018 Ana

Harmony

written December 24, 2014

"As I walked inside the flood of memories came pouring down into the deep depths of my empty stomach
And my heart dropped down with them, when I first saw you
Feeble, exhausted, and glued to your bed
Throat so inflamed that barely any words were said
Wishing things were different, but there's nothing we can do
Besides sit and watch a movie together, inside the hospital room
When you caressed my hand, I felt it straight in my heart
Like a pathway to my happiness, you are the start
Our time was cut short, and I had to say goodbye
Our hands fell from our intertwine, to our sides as I looked you in the eyes for this last time
And said, 'bye'
But don't worry my love, I'll be back soon
And I promise I love you from the ground to the moon (and back)"

My boyfriend got mono for a month and was in ICU and almost died. I only got the chance to visit him once and it was about 30 minutes max.

#love #boyfriend #hospital #alex #mono

Apr 2017 Ana

My Trust for You

Apr 2017 Ana

Siren Coast

My Trust for You

I'd leave you in the middle of the night
Just to have you wonder about me
Where I went
What I was thinking
If I was with someone else
I would leave all these things behind
The papers mean nothing to me
The fabrics mean nothing to me
I want to prove to you
That you too, can mean nothing to me
I want you to hurt in ways I cannot explain
In many ways you have broken my heart
In many ways I realize you have not
But I'd still leave you in the middle of the night
To prove what cost is to me

Mar 2017 Ana

Alcoholism

Mar 2017 Ana

Willow-Anne

Alcoholism

She’s more fun when she is drunk
At least…until she’s not
Because she’s puking in the toilet
And regretting her last shot

She’s more confident when she’s drunk
Gorgeous and ready to score
Until she looks in a mirror
And feels even uglier than before

She likes herself more when she is drunk
Until that feeling goes away
When she is so far beyond gone
That her self-hatred comes out to play

She’s happier when she’s drunk
All her issues leave her brain
But they all come crashing back at once
And cause her so much pain

She likes the world more when drunk
It’s filled with so much good
Until one little thing sets her off
And she hates it all more than she should

She likes life more when she’s drunk
Her mind for once feels still
Terrified of losing that feeling
She soon wants to end things with a pill

But she can stop any time she wants
Or so she’d have you believe
Because alcohol makes her seem so happy
That is, until all her friends leave

Edit: (3/10/17) Oh my goodness! I haven't logged on in a couple of days and boy did I miss a lot!
I am doing my best to respond to all your messages and comments now! Sorry for the wait!
Thank you all so much for such an overwhelming amount of love and support <3 You guys are amazing
For those of you who struggle with addiction of any kind, hang in there, and I hope you all find the help and support you need <3
Best wishes to you all. And thank you again <3

Edit: (3/11/17)
Alrighty, so I just got a very long message that without going too into details accused me of poking fun at alcoholism with this poem. I would just like to be very clear that this poem was in no way inteaded to make fun of the illness that is alcoholism, and if it came off that way to anyone else, I am truely truely sorry. Words can not express that enough for I very much wished the opposite intent. Alcoholism (and addiction in general) is a very serious illness that I take very seriously. I sinceraly hope that anyone who is struggling with it gets the help they need and those of you who are in recovery, I am proud of you. Stay strong and continue to work towards it <3
Once again, my sincere apologies again to anyone who was offended.
Love to you all <3 - Willow-Anne

Dec 2016 Ana

self-portrait: age 77

Dec 2016 Ana

b for short

self-portrait: age 77

She sits on a wooden porch
in a chair that learned its comfortable shape
over decades of fireside conversation.
Her hair, still dark,
dark with a swatch of silvery gray
that drapes across the top of her head—
an honorary sash, life-bestowed.
Her cheeks, still round.
Her eyes, still green and wondering.
Her fingers, still short as they
light a long wooden pipe.
With a flick and a hiss, she *****
sweet tobacco smoke
and breathes out secrets
in languages spoken only by
those who understand the trees.
She sips bitter tea from a clay cup
and names each of the birds
that fly into her view.
She grows berries just for them
on vines that twist about
unsuspecting beams and rails.
A metaphor, she suspects.
She hums familiar melodies to herself
and cracks a wrinkled smile.
The world, as she knows it,
is only ever waiting to be enjoyed.