you would always seem the broken one
but god knows how many bodies you’ve fixed
how you hold the sanity of others in your palms
like the collapse of the galaxy depends on it
always so delicate, so gentle, so careful
you are the intake of breath of the almost dying
and ******* you are the north star of many
sharing the light and poetry and hope
and filling lungs to the point of explosion
like supernovas contained inside our skin
your veins overflowing with ink and quills
giving out much but never keeping any
good god i hope you know how much you’re worth
like the only four-leafed clover in a thousand patches
i bet you lost count of the broken hearts
you’ve glued back together, how much ache
you have tucked inside your pockets to keep
you make me write poems in the middle of my sleep
so i guess this is the payback, my little gift
to the girl with eyes who have seen brokenness,
who knows the true meaning of love and hurt,
to her who fought the demons with her words,
whose tempest washed out the worst,
who deserves so much more than this birthday poem,
the girl who inspired me and millions of others,
i’m glad you’re alive
i’m glad you survived
~ d.a
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
“You’re the elephant in every room now. I used to think you were the monster under the bed, but you’re not supposed to fall in love with the monsters. Not even when they kiss you like they mean it. I’m lying down in a field of apologies for you, and they all sound the same. I’m sorry this felt like a flying through a windshield. I’m sorry I didn’t stay to clean up the mess. I’m sorry all we had to show for this was a crime scene love affair. I’m sorry you stopped touching me. You’re living in my head for now, and we treat each other better this time. On the bad days, I think I see you in the supermarket or strolling down the sidewalk or in a car speeding by, and then I realize for a second that it’s still about you. Even when it isn’t, it is. Even when I’m not thinking about your name, everything around me is still singing it. Like a song I can’t get rid of. Like a song I want to unlearn. Like a song that will always belong to my voice no matter how hard I try to burn it away.”
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 9:02 AM UTC
Darling, you’re worth more.
Don’t carry your life like a burden,
someday, someone, somewhere
will love you enough to see
the beauty of your excitement at
all the little things your eyes catches;
they’ll love you enough to travel
across the state just to see you at 2am
and cradle you on your sad days, crying
in bed and you’ll get back every effort
you bring forth to others.
Someday, some time, some where,
you’ll wake up and realise
that your life is much more beautiful
than your cold self on your death bed.
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
When I was younger, commercials told me that depression hurt, and I had no idea what that meant. Flowers were flowers and the sun tanned my skin and peach tea ran through my veins and the world produced enough magic for me to be content.
How I ended up on my bathroom floor with a knife is a story for after my eulogy. Do not mention how the flowers died, how the sun burned my skin, or how the world is the worst it has ever been.
Suddenly, I was mocked by every living thing on this planet. They sighed “you do not live.” Every frown was another twist of the barbed wire tangled up in my bones that clicked toward the destruction of my free will and the caging of my heart, brittle and broken and bruised and more than ready to stop its frail beating.
I used to want. Want to lap up the planet like a thirsty dog, satiated by the sanguine hearts that care for the earth, I wanted to glide through every part of history with my eyes wide open with a ribcage breathing energy and light, strength and confidence.
And here I am.
I wonder if any of it was real at all. Until I find out, I’ll make myself a part of history today. May you forever remember the pigment of my eyes when I cried from the joy of the moment.
This is the end of the road.
~d.a
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
you're 17,
but you're a beauty queen,
only a year older than me,
but you'll never open up your eyes to see, but
you have a georgia jagger smile,
and in my dreams,
you're with me,
i'm complete,
but for now you're only words on the page of poem,
that you will never read,
you're wonderful, incredible and yet i'm invisible,
the way you hold your stares,
the way you tuck your hair behind your ears,
the way you bite your lip,
the way your beauty is pure,
the way you stutter as if you're unsure,
as if you can't see how perfect,
in my eyes you are too me,
i just wished you'd notice that i'm the angel who'd give up her wings to be your anything,
if that's what you needed from me,
you're beautiful
you're so **** dead set beautiful and nobody compares to you
~d.a
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 5:59 AM UTC
the amount of times i've written i'm fine while crying,
the amount of times i smiled while i wish i was dying,
it hurts simply because,
people underestimate the kind of pain you have to be in,
to drag a blade
across your own skin,
i hide myself under a pile of lies so no one sees,
the secrets behind
these fake smiles,
my depression is like a current pulling me under and everytine i finally have some strength to pull myself up again it pulls me down,
it is strangling my happiness out of me,
it refuses to let me breathe,
it grabs hold of my neck and is murdeing my joy,
i can't explain the pain that went across my veins,
those nights where i wish i was sober,
where poems like this made no sense,
where i smoked my pain the **** away,
those nights where a pull of the rope could of ended my night,
i don't know anymore,
all i know is that i'm getting worse and worse by the second and i don't know what to do
~d. a
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 1:39 AM UTC
I don’t want to write lyrical poems about my heartbreak.
Because surely,
Something so sad cannot be beauteous.
I don’t want to share this piece of feeling,
Its meant to be hidden in that drawer full of skeletons.
Lines and phrases from my old poems keep repeating themselves to me;
I am hope and heartloss all rolled into one.
I wanna shut my ears,
And **** the pain out.
Even if it takes every little living atom outta me.
~ d.a
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 6:52 AM UTC
i wrote so many poems,
for a girl who'd never see,
i stopped writing poems.
that girl is dead to me;
i lost my power and source of thought when writing,
she was gone,
nothing to hold on to,
only those three words,
that traced the page,
over and over;
i
love
you
~ d.a
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 8:05 AM UTC
A train hit me, ran me over, ******* killed me when I saw you today.
You smiled and I melted like the very first day.
I was flooded with our memories..
I was drowning in your voice..
I wanted to stare into your eyes and make you remember our beautiful love story.
But I know that it will never be again.
I miss you..
And I regret never telling you that I love you
~ d.a
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 3:10 AM UTC
i own more books than friends,
i need to return the books back to the library,
that i've kept since august,
but those words on that page kept me sane,
the words are real and everything a person could never be,
a person you call a friend is never always there,
when you need them most,
they let you down and even though you're suffering and drowning in your anxieties,
they are forgetting your mere existence,
but the pages on that book are the ones,
i hold close to my heart,
because they get me through the days when i need to grocery shopping,
but instead i'm smoking,
wishing,
the pain away that in hope i will one day be okay
~ d.a
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 6:40 AM UTC