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Milana Feb 2019
Music that I can feel dancing up my throat—
Choking on words I did not know longed for a home within me.
Nausea butterflies overdosing on perverted fantasies of things that do not work.
Living in my dream world,
I am dreaming.
A daze almost,
the way our darkest desires are tossed like stitched childhood toys;
Apocalypse of secrets in color,
exploding with natural disaster;
I am a whirl pool of water that drowns in her own silence,
like an immortal vampire -reliving death over and over again as a curse for not knowing how to swim.
**** them for ****;
for ******* the little air I had, out.

My wonderland, frightened by balloons and their restless surrender to touch.
Balloons that felt very human to me.
Oh,
how we will never know why we are here…
Dreamers transcending time,
the supernatural magicians that we all believe.
How frightening that must be.
Within me I do not know how to dream and I cannot see my world,
My butterflies are choking,
the apocalypse is death of…..
And by, —-……
And
Natural disasters that now understand why this high no longer feels good.
  Feb 2019 Milana
She Writes
**** doesn’t always hide
At parties and outside clubs
**** doesn’t always hide
In dark alleys and empty parking lots
Sometimes it is right in front of you
But you choose to look the other way
**** doesn’t always hide
Behind the faces of strangers in the night
Sometimes it is hiding behind the closed doors
Of your uncles
Cousins
Fathers
And brothers
**** isn’t always loud-
Screaming, yelling, and crying
Sometimes **** is quiet-
Gasping for air and silent tears
  Feb 2019 Milana
yúyīn
JJsbdksndkkdmxmjshJustletmediemmmkbhbxjdnxnbdjxbdnxnnxnxnImsotire­dofthisnsjs nkksbdndnbdthese tears wontstopjdjdnn znjsnndudndkdknfkdmssnfnjdndnndbdbdbdnWhythepainstilllivesin myheartjjxnxjxjdn mykdjdvjsndjcjndndncnxkxnkxndkdkjdnskxhjshdjddndeImsofuckingtired­msnndksnxonshxidnkxndjsjdbjdkslmsndjjdbdisbdjjdksndjdhbsndnndjdjd­ndnd


Youllneverunderstand me
@.**
  Nov 2018 Milana
Cheryl
There are worse things
than a broken heart
but to a romantic
to a poet soul
it's fuel, it's fodder
we keep scratching the scab off
and fingerpainting in the pool of our own blood
still working on closing the wound..
  Nov 2018 Milana
Vale Luna
(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.
Forward: from the victims perspective.
Backward: from the murderers perspective.

This TOOK ME FOREVER TO WRITE
Milana Oct 2018
A lonely blue—- that swallows my tongue from tightly twisting,
A deep blue lost under the rolling weight of fog after Wednesday night.
A sudden silence playing hide n seek after dark..

I’m standing in a tall space in the green pits of my mind,
and theres an occupancy †hat cannot fit more than two hands and one breath.
A volcano of orange deep inside the holes of my eyes
A
if you look hard enough, it smells like oranges, burning,
like
Candles, when the power goes out on Thursday night.

Nothing—— except dark drops of tears on the lining of the forest leaves,
just— falling like dice, on a wooden coffee table outside of a loud house,
with no one inside.
An exceptional loud speaker radiating in the wet dirt,
Generating cold noises of forgotten memories
and all I could think of was the cigarette exhausting smoke into a space without me in it.
An ashtray hiding under the only tree slightly shorter than the tallest one,
but no one ever knew.

''''''Just a constant pit of black and grey that the sky took as its own identity.

Standing in the twilight of the mist where I forgot my name for more than a minute
And I never even saw you.
It was me,
mirrored in the dark autumn that I could only feel.
A place that did not exist for your feet to stand,
the face that would be swallowed in the quicksand of my green safe place.
Occupancy of my feet,
Population zero.

I was merely a figment of my own imagination,
as the star dust sat below the willows of the trees.
We were absolutely nothing,
learning to become the thin lines that outlined the branches to fit uniquely with each other.
A lovely blue— that electrocuted the puddles forming under the house that stood like a lonely heart.
A card game that never existed,
a play we were simply robbers for.

A toy ripped apart from love,
a **** I could never escape,
a girl robbed
a girl,
——***** ——-
I could never tell you that.
———————————-
A slight wind, she was,
Awaiting for the weight of Thursday morning fog.

Coexisting under the world,
IN a parallel universe that drew pain in abstract dreams.
A girl robbed of her own safe space,
a green
A deep Blue,
Staining my knees like A bruise.

Eyes lost in the fog of yesterdays rainfall.
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