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Nov 2019 · 375
Love: A Haiku
Dania Nov 2019
Sometimes I just don't
Pretend to understand how
Amazing you are
be kind to those who express themselves
Oct 2019 · 54
Dania Oct 2019
What if everything wasn't the way it was?
Have you ever posed a sentence with a question?
Just looking for answers.
How to refine the question -
Or find the answer.
We panic at the thought of thoughts,
Of questions.
But should we find answers?
What if we don't have them?
Be kind to those who share.
Oct 2019 · 82
Dania Oct 2019
One of the few things that I'm sure of.
I could build my world off of.
Your unknowingly frequent touches on the world around you.
One of the few things I know.
It's strange - almost unheard of in this town.
The impact --
Be kind to those who share
Oct 2019 · 66
Dania Oct 2019
Lover ...
What does that mean?
Because I've had many.
My lover now is the most incredible,
And so was the one before.
Until he wasn't.
I think I've got it now.
My lover.
Be kind to those who share.
Jul 2019 · 101
Dania Jul 2019
Beauty -
How much is in the eye of the beholder?
I wonder.

"You are beautiful".
He said that to me.
I wonder.

I wonder if he said that and meant I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
I wonder if he said it because he felt it only in that moment.
But I also wonder if he said it just to say it. I wonder.
May 2019 · 75
One of Us
Dania May 2019
One of us had to be the one who ended it,
But what if one of us was the one who still wanted it.
I forgive you for being the former,
And I scare myself for still being the latter.
Nov 2017 · 1.3k
While he's away
Dania Nov 2017
While he's away, find a friend.
While he's away, find a place.
While he's away, find yourself.

While he's away, be okay.
While he's away, be thankful.
While he's away, be you.

He's not coming back.
Give thanks for that.
please be kind to all who express themselves
Jul 2017 · 1.7k
Dania Jul 2017
I know what to do with the polaroids we took over the holidays--
I can burn them.

I know what to do with the seven t-shirts, two sweatshirts, and one jersey you gave me to sleep in and wear while we held each other in bed every night for three years--
I can throw them away.

I know what to do with the necklace you gave me when you visited me, the bracelet you gave me for our six months and the earrings you bought me when we fought last year on my birthday--
I can sell them.

But I don't know what to do with your voice ringing in my head, saying I love you, and then I hate you.

But I don't know what to do with the image of your eyes lighting up when I would greet you at the airport, and then of your arms hesitating to hug me the last time we would ever see each other.

But I don't know what to do with the thought of you holding someone else and giving them your t-shirt to sleep in after a long night in.

And I don't know what to do with the memories. Three years of memories. Of loving you, of you loving me. Of holding you, of you holding me. Of fighting. Of every moment I caught my breath to make sure we were real and then of every moment I wished you hadn't lied or cheated or done something hurtful. Of every little thing that made me want you and want to get away from you all at the same time.

What do I do with all of that?
Please be kind.
Jul 2017 · 621
A Dream So (un)Real
Dania Jul 2017
It was creepy, eerie, so tangible.

You knocked on my bedroom door.
You walked in so slowly.

As you approached me, my heartbeat hastened.
You sat down right in front of me and our eyes met.

Your hand reached out to me and we hugged.
I held you so close.

I dreamt of you last night.
I remember reassuring myself it was real.
Jul 2017 · 467
Dania Jul 2017

Why are they so important?

Why do they mean so much?

Last Saturday I was at a bar talking to Canadians at a bachelor party--one of which bought me drinks all night and wanted to makeout with me.

The Saturday before that I went out with some friends I hadn't seen in a long time.

And before that, I went out with my friends to this area that had so many bars filled with people who drank themselves into stupors--kind of like I did the Saturday before that one.

I was dumped. So I drank--a lot I drank. That Saturday was a mess.

But tonight is Saturday and I didn't want to do anything, yet I felt like I should. So I did. I went to a friend's house to drink, but I didn't go out. I felt tipsy, I felt surrounded by friends, but I also felt sad.

He was out. He was happy. And he definitely was probably not sad.

But I was.

It's funny how break ups work--they make you question even the smallest things, like the purpose of Saturday's, ya know?
Please be kind to all who express themselves.
Mar 2017 · 681
At the Airport
Dania Mar 2017
Our last kiss was not even one we wanted, but one we knew had to just happen.
Feb 2017 · 299
Dania Feb 2017
I miss when his mind said, "You're beautiful",
his eyes said, "I love you",
and his heart said, "You're mine forever".
Feb 2017 · 399
It Used to be Easy
Dania Feb 2017
I know what together means.
It's human nature to want to be a part of something larger than us.
It's human nature to hold onto something so volatile in the hopes that the tension will turn into warm stability.
It's human nature to attach yourself to something or someone, to look at this entity as if it were a part of you.
You are okay.
You are normal to not want to be alone.
You've been okay with it in the past, but now that you know what together means, solitude screams discomfort.
You've spent your whole life headstrong.
The steps in front of you were confident strides waiting to be seized and conquered.
It was so easy to be alone.
But you know what together means.
It's human nature to love what you love and not want to let go when you've tasted the subliminal euphoria you thought you could only give yourself but someone was holding it for you all along.
I know what together means,
But sometimes I wish I didn't.
Dania Jul 2016
How do you get over something so real?
How do you forget about something so close?
I mourn the loss of an individual who loved me.
He was dear to me in almost every way.
He didn't die.
But we did.
We died because he committed suicide.
The lips of another girl was his martyred maneuver.
No regret.
No remorse.
Eyes wide open when he triggered the bullet.
I mourn now.
While his hands brush the hips of another girl.
His biggest transgression.
Not the cheating, not the delicate gentle way he caressed her while she twirled in for the kiss of death.
He murdered a living, breathing, pulsating creature.
I mourn, he marries.
No more for now.
just expressing myself~please be kind.
Dania Jul 2015
Remember when you pressed your lips against mine?
The timorous trembling of your kiss stopped time.

Remember when your hand wrapped around my fingers?
The ephemeral warmth caused the summer breeze to linger.

Remember when you stroked my hips toward yours?
The transcendental timber in the way we danced leaves me craving more.

Remember when you locked me into an embrace mid-Sixth Street?
The humid July night grew feverish with our imminent fleeting heat.

Remember when we said "I love you"?
Those three words never felt more true.

With all of these memories, I turn to where we stand today.
As I catch a glimpse of you glazing over the softness of her shoulder,
The moments I once sheltered, I now force away.

I gather my pride and recognize that I was always number two.
These moves you made to win me over
Were only perfect, because you practiced them first on her too.

She was the girl we worried about before.
The one you always knew was the one for you.
But you strung me along like some almighty's *****,
And now I leave you with the little dignity you blew
And the reality I lied about but always knew.
Jul 2015 · 751
Play With Fire
Dania Jul 2015
You like to play with fire, but you pretend you're cold around the edges.
Though you talk a smooth game, your eyes play a different position.
I know you like the way it feels--
To be noticed by someone other than the one you love. Or pretend to love.
But what about her? The one you pretend to love?
She watches you skim the flames out of the corner of her eye. She notices the steps you take towards the scorching idea of something better, something hotter, some one more fit for you.
And with every move towards that light, you take a bit from her.
You make her the cold you pretend to be.
You make her the insecurity you dance around.
You make her the bitterness you create.
She feels her skin peeling away from the third-degree burns that your quiet infidelity torches.
Where your candle once lit lies a broken match unable to spark.
And no one can fix it, no one can stop it.
You're playing with fire, but she's getting burned.
Jul 2015 · 614
Dania Jul 2015
Today I woke up with a paralyzing pounding in my head--
A feeling I had yet to explore.
My eyes burned with pain as my pillow offered no comfort.
I blinked once, twice, three times, as my brain declared war.

I felt my frontal lobe become a broken puzzle piece slowly disarming itself like Mr. Potato Head.
Throbbing, the ache now consumed my every thought.
It was as if my veins jutted out like long and windy cactus roots trying to reach the surface.
Marking their own territory on my pale-faced plot.

With nothing to do but nauseously wait for cease-fire,
I wondered what could have led to this distress.
But now that it's over,
It's not worth that stress.
Mar 2015 · 1.9k
Dania Mar 2015
Life is truly better alone,

                          and yet I write in the journal that he gave to me.
Dec 2014 · 523
Summer 2014
Dania Dec 2014
I miss when he would call me beautiful because he could.
Because his eyes didn't just see it, but his heart felt it.
Dec 2014 · 336
Dania Dec 2014
Sometimes I miss the way we were before—
When we were on fire.
Love so flammable no wind or change could extinguish
Even a single flame.
Nov 2014 · 355
Miles Entwined
Dania Nov 2014
I love that we're miles apart
and still holding hands.
Oct 2014 · 169
Dania Oct 2014
My eyes are weary from weeping,
But my heart is heavy for you still.
Oct 2014 · 391
Some Days
Dania Oct 2014
Some days, I don't feel the warmth of your bare arms around me when we sleep.
Some days, I don't hear the breath of your words as you look right through me.
Some days, I don't see you across the table when I eat my dinner.
Some days, I don't smell your cologne coming out of the shower as you're getting ready in the morning.
Some days, I don't feel your touch in the shower.
Some days, I don't embrace you under our sheets.
Some days, all I have is memories.

On those days, I crave you so I turn in to see if I have anything left in my mind to go back to those days when I had you with me and around me and in me.
On those days, I feel alone.
On those days, I feel resentful.
On those days, I feel suffocated by the good I have so far away.
And on those days, I ask if it's worth it.

Is one of those days.
And it's worth it.
Aug 2014 · 235
I've Noticed...
Dania Aug 2014
I've noticed...
The way humanity thrives on depression.
When times are sad, the world falls madly in love with despair and clings to it like a fish out of water begging for one last drop.
What happened to the desire to live? To love? To breathe because the  oxygen invigorates you?
Man decays at the presence of joy. Why?
I once fell victim to the monster of misery.
We marvel at the melancholy melting away our hopes for ecstasy.
As we sit idly by, the fleeting moments of good never grace our beings.
Now that I'm in love, I loathe my past of taking pleasure in self-inflicted, nonessential, shallow, self-depracating, purposeless pain.
I'm happy. I feel it and I'm ashamed to share it and express it because of my former comfort in forlorn sadness.
Man must use every pulsing fiber, every flowing vein, every moving, living, breathing cell to escape this false sense of depressive contentment.
I've noticed...
There's life. And there's happiness to it. Find it.
Jul 2014 · 752
Love Transfusion
Dania Jul 2014
Our hearts
Felt bloods
Infusing serenity
Into one another's bodies.

And it felt right.
Jul 2014 · 1.5k
Little Black Car Break
Dania Jul 2014
Within the four doors that make up my Hyundai Elantra surges gasoline of sublime ecstasy.
                I'm gonna lose my mind and sail the ocean.
               'Cause somebody told me there were cherry blue skies...

Reverberates my radio and pours out of my chords to the tune of the bliss hiding in the highways ahead of me.
Sometimes, I let my voice steer the wheel and my hands touch the happiness in the follicles flying through the winds of the roads.
Other times, I drive without reason--
Without a destination or time limit or objective.
I drive to dream about
                Waking up too early
                Maybe we can sleep in
                Make you banana pancakes
                Pretend like it's the weekend now...

Or to caress the breeze of the sunset's gentle gust grazing my fingers and the spaces between them.
On the surface sits a black car, but inside travels the life inside of me that I cannot manifest anywhere else.
      Don't stop believin'
      Hold onto that feelin'...

Turns the corners and the lyrics to my wheels
      Come crash into me...
I can't help but thank the gravel that I drive on and embrace the euphoria that I breathe in and love the life that I live.
Jul 2014 · 1.4k
Dania Jul 2014
The stars from where you stand seem to shine brighter.
Forming a shrine of life, your stars send me through to you like a push-and-pull ocean tide.
Adorn my days with your light and show me the infinite trail towards passionate serenity.
If I stretch my hand way up high and let my fingers fall into the graces of your palm, will you hold my feelings in the form of a fist and fight for our love?
Sometimes I question the quality of life with you and I realize the quantity of pain without you--
Unbearable by now to leave you.
And then I know the answers to all of my questions.
When the stars shine, they shine brighter
Because of you
                   and me
They shine brighter from where we stand.
Jul 2014 · 366
War No More
Dania Jul 2014
War no more is just a saying.
We say it to make us think we're not playing,
But it's just a saying.
Fighting battles fueled with zealous gasoline,
Going nowhere but to death.
Cold, cruel, clean.
Stop pumping in the hate and learn to appreciate the innate magnificence that the world can sprinkle like a drizzle of sweet, sweet beautiful rain.
Erase the pain and baseless fury,
And hurry towards peace.
Too many die young and too little live long.
War no more. Close the spiteful door and explore the beauty that's worth breathing for.
Jun 2014 · 2.5k
Apartheid of Expression
Dania Jun 2014
Writer's blocks build walls of divide.
On the one side jump experience and feeling and emotion and thought, but on the other sit the words that rest in my mind and refuse to wake up from their pesky slumbers of stubborn laziness. All it takes is one word to smuggle itself passed a crack in the wall and there's a melody of language. The ideas can shoot itself only so high without its counterpart on the other side helping it reach the top. Oh writer's blocks, please stop mounting yourselves on top of one and other. With every solidifying brick, another word slips away and slowly writes itself into a permanent shut-eye. I know you mean no harm and simply want to exist in the struggle for perfected poetry, but my life currently lacks its  therapy. I appreciate your necessary hindrances, but if you could help me harmonize my mind and soul, I'd value your necessity much more.
Jun 2014 · 913
Stuck Inside, Stuck In Time
Dania Jun 2014
it's 2:24 am
and it's dark out
and it's not yet light
and I'm watching Netflix
and my bed hugs me
and it's 2:25 am now
and you're still on my mind
Jun 2014 · 416
Call 911
Dania Jun 2014
It all crashed,
As if an intoxicated child had been steering towards the corner of Absentminded and Dazed.
                                                          ­    Harmless.
I just wanted the rush of it all.
I wanted to feel the car collide into a whirlwind of commotion.
                                                      ­        Chaos.
I wanted the chaos.
I craved the chaos.
The hectic emotions that skipped over the sweet heartbeats when our pulses fluttered together;
They were inebriating, invigorating,
Enthralling every ounce of my reluctant reason to thrill.
I wanted the lust and the simple beauty in love that I couldn’t have.
And it killed me.
I crashed into arteries of reality.
The ****** absorbed every fiber in my form,
Every neural tissue that tingled from the tips of my hair follicles to my toes.
Not one cell was safe,
Because my heart wanted what it wanted,
And it led my atoms to do things unimaginable—
Undesirable, but oh so desirable,
And it led me to…            
Dania Jun 2014
Verde vivienda—
Tortura mia.
Cuanto quisiera irme a mi casa—
La casa de rosas rojas y llenas
De amor y pasion para la ciudad.
Blanca pureza—
Tu voz me llama hasta al fondo del las raíces
De la tierra,
De la alma,
De la corrupcion.
Tu lengua dice muy calladito:
“Viva Mexico”.
No dejes que tu belleza desaparezca
Dentro del crimen carmesí del paiz.
Aunque me fui de tus manos a un ano,
Quiero que sepas que te extrano.
Visito tus pueblos esmeraldas seguido,
Pero siempre te llevo conmigo.
Por favor, mi vida,
Gritame en el esplendor de marfil —
Como lo hicistes ese quince de Septiembre
Para que te escuche desde aqui:
“Viva Mexico!”
Tan potente,
Tan triunfante—
Nunca moriras.
Message me for translation
Jun 2014 · 480
Dania Jun 2014
Get the hell away from me.
Because I want you so close to me.
I know you'll never come to me.
So I'll tell you to get the hell away from me.
And then the rejection won't stay with me.
And the pain will someday, somehow escape from me.
So get the hell away from me.
Unless you want to come close to me.
Jun 2014 · 635
Anxious Fondness
Dania Jun 2014
Falling down with the weight of the earth,
Droplets distinguish themselves among the sounds of the streets.
Ever so lightly, each drizzle sizzles,
Forewarning its surfaces of its oncoming storm.
At the height of its power, it cries out in thunder,
Bawling its skies out for us
To drink
The liquid bullets of the rain’s nourishing force
Or for us to open our empty arms for
The magical heartbeats of the rain’s calming disposition.
It’s a frightening, beautiful thing, isn’t it, this shower?
Everyone cowers at its boisterous rumbles,
Yet marvels at its intoxicating flashes.
Having the potency to ***** you and soothe you and remove you from reality all at once,
Each watery tear intensifies your innermost fears,
Cleansing your past anxieties and drenching your own uneasiness.
So let it rain.
Let the calm before the storm summon serendipity in the form of serenity after the calamity,
For at the end of this tireless twister,
A slight sprinkle will assemble in sweet, sweet crystal clarity.
Jun 2014 · 560
Release Useful Venom
Dania Jun 2014
Sweet serpentine snake,
So staggeringly stunning,
Say something sanguine.
Jun 2014 · 462
Dania Jun 2014
They fell in love in June,
When the sun shone rays of gold.
With her flaxen-brown locks of warmth.
With his brawny arms of fire,
They fell in love in June.

They fell in love in June.
The moment their eyes locked to the opposite sides of the same window
Was the scene they would never forget.
With virginal hope hovering her logic,
And he—
With masculine autonomy clouding the last of her clear days,
They fell in love in June.

They fell in love in June.
The window protected her from the fire,
But they pierced the glass together.
Craving the heat from her beloved,
She sank into the smoky fumes.
And the fumes were friendly at first.
She loved inhaling the smoke that arose from under the gentle sheets.
He touched her in ways that didn’t burn her.
And they felt passion at first.
They felt vulnerable fury in the fingers of one
And ardent lust in the palms of the other,
As they fell in love in June.

They fell in love in June,
With his nourishing flames.
And he
With the image of her broken hunger longing for them.
They fell in love in June.
Jun 2014 · 1.4k
Babel On
Dania Jun 2014
I met a man the other day,
About 6”2 from about 2 feet away.
He was tall and dark and wise and uncanny.
And he sat with me and said,
“My name is Sanny.”
And he told me his life story.
He said some of it was boring
But the music in his voice was roaring.
He was excited to tell me about his day at work that day;
How he got that promotion
And then gave it away.
He said the other man deserved the trophy.
He worked so hard and played the goalie.
I didn’t ask a question.
I didn’t say a word.
I wasn’t going to tell him I thought he was absurd.
But he could tell from the look on my face
That I had grown up in a society of disgrace.
He looked at my thesis
And gave me some cautionary pieces.
He asked me what I’d like to be:
A lawyer, a doctor, a singer, the queen bee?
I gave him a look of perplexity
And he explained to me the power of certainty.
He said,
“One day, you’ll be something.
Because I see you studying here everyday.
It’s almost disgusting.
Now don’t get me wrong girl,
You’re not unpleasant.
But because you spend your days and nights in the words of your textbook,
You’ve become a scholastic peasant.”
And I could’ve been offended,
And requested he mend the words he proudly defended.
But his words kept whirling
Into the coffee-scented aroma that was swirling.
He told me his goals.
And how he’d challenged his superior roles.
He never asked me what my name was,
Because it didn’t matter.
He had seen my sunken eyes
And my complexion begin to batter.
He told me he grew up in Bosnia
And noticed my insomnia.
He noticed the way I looked up to people only because I was short,
And he said that I needed to acknowledge that I am my own resort.
He says he has a wife and a family,
And that he always feels the need to be manly.
But he looked at me and said,
“I’m sure you could lead for me instead.
I can see it in your eyes,
You want to be the one who flies,
And word to the wise,
Even Superman
And he glanced up at me—
The first time anyone had.
He told me when someone sits down to enjoy the beauty of life,
It’s not so bad.
Dead in the eye,
He told me,
“You be bold, you be beautiful, you be brave.
Don’t let anyone tell you how to behave.
And when life gives lemons or a fancy promotion,
You think about what you’ve got and experience the lovely commotion.”
For a girl who always had a remark to bark or an input to inspire,
I was speechless, and needless to say,
Beginning to perspire.
I had become the product of my youth,
Which I buried in the textbook of the uncouth.
I hadn’t said anything ******,
But I had become a statistical number
Of those who take tests and write papers and waste their precious slumber
On ACTs and SATs and MTV and Tumblr.
Deep in my awakened blue eyes,
He witnessed the thoughts unraveling like a sneaky spy.
He implanted a plant of unrelenting growth.
Within a matter of minutes, he taught me how to **** out the most
Of the world on which I place my intellectual bare hands like an ambitious cloak.
He told me to stand up,
And all.
He told me I had a short figure,
For a brainy leader so tall.
He told me he was fifty-six and six foot two,
But he watched the way I learned from the world and wished he could walk a day in my size 6-shoe.
He then stood up and extended his hand.
I said, “it was nice to meet you.”
And he answered, “Someday, you will realize you’re more than four foot ten and you can
Be the one who aspires to be more than a fan of everyone else’s own life span.
And I hope they all look you dead in the eye and show you how much they care,
You look like one who breeds too much potential to simply sit with your coffee and homework and iPhone and wasted youth on that boring chair,
To let the thoughts you have roaming in this free wifi and G-D given life not to share.”
Better presented ******
Jun 2014 · 1.4k
alone with him
Dania Jun 2014
I like spending time alone
With the right person.

The problem is that
I found the right person.

I know it doesn’t make sense
To enjoy solitude
With someone else.

And I also know
I’m not his right person.
I know he doesn’t think about me.

And I know he won’t think about how my hair glows a goldish-bronze in the sunset.
He won’t dream about my blue eyes peering over his chest after we make love.

And I know he won’t rant about how I don’t love him with the same passion he loves me,
Because it’s the other way around.

I know he likes spending time alone,
Maybe with the right person.

The problem is that
I wasn’t the right person.

— The End —