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Isabel Mar 8
i know she doesn't like me.
i see it every time,
the way she talks,
the way her smile doesn't reach her eyes,
the way she avoids me, only me.
you've said it already,
again and again.

i tell myself it's not your fault,
you still like me, it's just her opinion.
but why don't you try defending me,
i’ve been with you through thick and thin.
how many times do i have to be there for you
until you tell her you disagree?

i get it she doesn’t like me,
but why do you say that to me,
i know all you are trying to be is honest
but sometimes it can't hurt to be ignorant of judgement.
Isabel Feb 1
if you're ever feeling down,
in need of a cure,
head on downtown
and be lured
by the **** music of jazz.

the moving feet, tapping to the beat
the plucks of the bass
the blues chords of the guitar
the playful fingers sliding across the black and white keys
the swinging beats of the sax
the rhythm of the drums
and most importantly the laughter and joy in the air.

jazz is the foundation of life,
music to the soul.
you feel your body move to the beat,
the beats and the rhythm flowing in your veins,
the stress sliding off your shoulders,
say bye bye to all those little insignificant worries.
it's just you and the music.
Isabel Nov 2019
on  m o n d a y,
it seems as if you like me.
your eyes catch mine
every other second.

on  t u e s d a y,
it seems as if i have become invisible.
i seek your eyes out,
but you're looking the other way.

on  w e d n e s d a y,
it seems as if we are on two separate planets.
it feels like you are worlds away
and i'm looking at you,
so unattainable,
with my telescope.

on  t h u r s d a y,
it seems as if i may have been wrong,
'cos I see you looking at me
out of the corner of your slightly crinkled eyes,
a smile playing on your lips,
and, no doubt,
it's for me.

on  f r i d a y,
i fall in love with you all over again.
before I go home,
i see you again and stare,
and you stare back,
the moment passing in a second,
but on my mind for too long.

on the  w e e k e n d,
all I think about is you.
and daydream fantasies
about you and I,
filled with hope for the next  
Isabel Apr 2019
It's crazy to think that
what you once thought was reality,
Is now a faded photograph
That's left in the corner to burn,
Slowly turning into dust.

It's crazy to think that
What you once thought was your future
Is now just a crumpled up dream,
Thrown in the trash among others,
Waiting to be dumped.

It's crazy to think that
All these people you thought were part of your play,
Have left your theatre,
And are playing some other character in another theatre,
Another play.

It's crazy to think
How fast our lives change,
How in the blink of an eye,
Our past reality is gone,
Our so-called future is replanned,
And the characters in our life are replaced.
Isabel Apr 2019
It's strange, really,
What once was considered home
Is now just another memory.

I remember clearly,
The day my parents told me
We were leaving again.
I even remember the pasta I ate that night.
My appetite rapidly gone
After just a sentence of words.

I remember
Saying goodbye to my friends,
At the time you really think
That they were going to be forever with you.
In reality,
That's never really true.

I remember
Feeling devastated,
Hating the prospect of moving again
After only a couple of years.
Why we could never stay put.

Now I recall,
All these memories,
That time I left the U.S.,
That time I left South Korea,
Sitting in my new home.

It's strange,
Because I love my new home more than ever,
And I would never,
In a million years,
Change the past events that I hated at the time,
Because those changes lead me to an even better place.

Then why is it,
That every time I do leave,
I forget that things will be better.
I forget all the changes that
Make me, me,
and that make my life, my life.

I just remember,
Having to leave my friends,
The sadness,
The hatred,
And I remember,
Having to leave my house,
No longer my home.
Isabel Jun 2018
Far off in the corner,
I’m trapped,
Waiting for someone to free me of my unrelenting imagination,
Someone to free me of the cage I’ve built,
To free me of those glooming clouds darkening my days.

So long,
I’ve waited. 
Day after day,
Night after night.  

I pray,
I hope,
Someone has the key,
To free me from this cage.

People pass,
Keys dangling from their hands,
Sparing not one glance at me.

I scream,
I shout,
I bang on the walls,
Trying to bring them down.

Can they not hear me?
Can they not see,
this girl that’s left there in a corner,
Locked in a cage,
Waiting for the key?
Isabel Apr 2018
Trying to juggle at 1am,
Trying to catch those ******* *****,
Trying to throw them the"right way",
Trying to do everything everyone tells me,  
Everything that I can't do.

Thoughts swirling in my brain,
Fogging my concentration.
Self-doubt arising,
wondering why no one has called me a failure yet.
Questions screamed to the universe.

All this fuss,
Just for three juggling *****,
Three juggling ***** which I can't juggle,
Three juggling ***** leading to my accusation of a failure,
Three juggling ***** questioning my capacity.
All this for three juggling *****.
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