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Rianna Aug 2019
Hello there,
You’ve been quite preoccupied
Or so you said.
I didn’t quite make out,
But who really cares.
For your words are but glorified sawdust,
When you’re spilling out the truth,
Right there.
It's not much fun, honey.
I’ll have you know
That I much prefer when,
A smile twists and tangos with
Those satin eyes,
And those candied lips.
I can hardly try,
And hide from the heat now.
It’s the jaunty, chiselled,
Swing in your step.
That hard-earned ripple,
Begs me to believe,
Your gaze could laser
A heart shaped hole
Right through me.

Cause your words are but branches,
Makeshift ebony,
To cling onto when faced,
With a drought of summer.
And its searing blaze.
The memories shelter
When the wind roars high.
And occasionally when
Your eyes glint ‘yes’
I've behaved rather well,
I'm tempted to build,
A little tyre swing,
That could swirl to the skies,
And conquer the clouds,
When the time is ripe.
But I screech to a halt,
Chains crumple and twist.
Now and then,
When you start to recede
All over again.

And once in a while,
I have to stop and and wonder
Oh honey, now is when we must come clean,
Why the ugly departures,
And flashing retreats?

Are you ever really here,
Or am I just imagining you
With me?
Rianna Aug 2019
It is moments like this
I am reminded
Just how normal,
It all is.
The ways of the world
And all its fragments,
Drawn from the magic,

And isn't it beautiful
To be just that?   

How beautiful are the leaves
That fly off slender arms,
Of twinkling trees.
How peaceful does the snow lie,
On benign rooftops,
Tranquil nights.
Carnations host the butterflies,
Who scurry around with fragrant zest
A porcelain sea,
licks at the beach.
Where every sparkly clump
Of shingle homes,
The dying sunset
And its saffron roar.

And under the cracks of golden rests,
My haggard,
Rianna Aug 2019
There's an old pen I found,
Lying around
At home.
And I'm wondering what to do with it.
Because no one else I know,
Wants to use it.

I like it.
I want to.

So I did.
Just a funny little thing I found in my notes
Rianna Aug 2019
I have exhausted the poetry from within
Let me know when to start again.
Rianna Aug 2019

You came,
We met,
We spoke,
You left.
And guess what?
It did the trick,

Cause here I am,
Here I came, for you!
Prancing, ready.
Here I am!
Can you believe it?
Because I,
Cannot, really…
…I swear! I'm ready,

I’ve waited now, for long,
So won’t you come along?
Unleash yourself upon,
For I am of the ‘damsel’,
Of your making.
For you, I lie prepared,
Palatable, steady.

So come on now!!
What’s the wait for??
Aren’t you there?
Ready to try what you’ve created?
What you’ve extracted of me
From ashes, shreds, and disgusting peels?!
Do you want me?
After all that you have created,
At your feet.
First time writing from the perspective of a character. A spontaneous piece from my notes. Meant to be read as spoken word.
Rianna Jul 2019
You were burning,
Tinged with a ludicrous smile,
And brown eyes.
Smiling, I swung
In deathly fear.
Into a brave,
Rianna Jul 2019
It’s been 3 months since my last panic attack.
Oh, you mean its been one?
A understandable misunderstanding,
For it’s not like I know myself.
One tends to drop the childish habit,
Of gnawing at shreds,
When there is little left to know.
Only so much scent to unmask,
So much ‘purpose’ you can detect,
A sliver of a ‘lesson’ you can collect.

So I’ll stop fiddling with the rag doll,
Leave my questions behind,
Barricade the door,
Crush it shut,
Banish the key,
Til eternity sees
The light of day.

⁃ For it’s not like I’ll ever know myself
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