Alexandra M Burlacu

Alexandra M Burlacu Mar 2017

I dug up forty five holes
With the countenance
Of a widow in mourning.
I planted you in the dirt
With the continence
Of a monk praying.

My sinful soul
Is fertile soil.

I've planted forty five dreams
In this piece called "heart"
I've been watering it with tears and hopes
And still
Forty five touches
Won't bring you here in my life.

I have forty five dreams where I kiss your skin
And there are forty five light million
years
Between your eyes
And mine and my smile.

In colab with @aeerdna

Alexandra M Burlacu Mar 2017

In opposition

Allow me to dissemble
Myself in this beer glass
Where I pour
Everything I've left of you.
And that's a lot!
You sit there asking me
Who's this about
I laugh
You dismantle my world
With two words:
"I know".
I spill my glass, the feelings
Flow like rivers.
You know?!
I cut myself in the shards
Of your sharp words.
My skin is thin,
You know...
You stuck your fingers
In the plugs of my brain
Short-circuit!
Rewind, repeat
"I know".
The ebb and flow of my breath
At a standstill
I've forgotten my survival instincts.
You cry
In an attempt to refill my broken glass
You know
How I never get drunk
And yet I keep drinking
I drain you.
In my arms
Rattling
The earthquake
Started in your core
Ready to crumble
I hold you so tight
In an attempt to stop you from coming undone
I am what you need
Though never what you want.
I know.

Alexandra M Burlacu Mar 2017

Stream of consciousness

Wipe away the history
     Of tomorrow!
Heavy lead lids
Covering
Coffee stained eyes
In the darkness
The yesterdays are
Revealed scintillating
Sprouting regret
Remorse digs deeper
With steel roots
Eating its way
In this chipped heart.
The flesh is stubborn
Bearing the scars
And the scabs
Of feelings no longer
Comprehended.

     **Undo the marching
     Of uncaring time!
Dead earthen soul
Descending
To new dimensions of
Uncharted abyss
Memories splinter
Fragmenting, dispersing
Millions of pieces
Of faces forgotten
Littering non-existence.
Gone is the season of life
Flashes of
Could haves
Or should haves
Or would haves
Scattered in lofty
Nothingness.

     *Set the unforgettable faces
     On fire
     The unfinished house,
     Burn that too down to ashes
     The fire is to devour
     Even the final hour.
     Bring on the fire
     To torch the desire
     Bring on the flames
     To set it all ablaze!

Mar 2017

Willow-Anne

Alcoholism

She’s more fun when she is drunk
At least…until she’s not
Because she’s puking in the toilet
And regretting her last shot

She’s more confident when she’s drunk
Gorgeous and ready to score
Until she looks in a mirror
And feels even uglier than before

She likes herself more when she is drunk
Until that feeling goes away
When she is so far beyond gone
That her self-hatred comes out to play

She’s happier when she’s drunk
All her issues leave her brain
But they all come crashing back at once
And cause her so much pain

She likes the world more when drunk
It’s filled with so much good
Until one little thing sets her off
And she hates it all more than she should

She likes life more when she’s drunk
Her mind for once feels still
Terrified of losing that feeling
She soon wants to end things with a pill

But she can stop any time she wants
Or so she’d have you believe
Because alcohol makes her seem so happy
That is, until all her friends leave

Edit: (3/10/17) Oh my goodness! I haven't logged on in a couple of days and boy did I miss a lot!
I am doing my best to respond to all your messages and comments now! Sorry for the wait!
Thank you all so much for such an overwhelming amount of love and support <3 You guys are amazing
For those of you who struggle with addiction of any kind, hang in there, and I hope you all find the help and support you need <3
Best wishes to you all. And thank you again <3

Edit: (3/11/17)
Alrighty, so I just got a very long message that without going too into details accused me of poking fun at alcoholism with this poem. I would just like to be very clear that this poem was in no way inteaded to make fun of the illness that is alcoholism, and if it came off that way to anyone else, I am truely truely sorry. Words can not express that enough for I very much wished the opposite intent. Alcoholism (and addiction in general) is a very serious illness that I take very seriously. I sinceraly hope that anyone who is struggling with it gets the help they need and those of you who are in recovery, I am proud of you. Stay strong and continue to work towards it <3
Once again, my sincere apologies again to anyone who was offended.
Love to you all <3 - Willow-Anne

Alexandra M Burlacu Mar 2017

November fever

I sit on the bed by the window
Naming the falling leaves.
You sit between the scribbled paper walls
Counting the ever-opened scars.
While the coffee grows colder,
I think of you,
Seven hundred and seventy seven
Kilometers away.
While the bottle falls empty?
You hit the floor with it,
About a thousand
Worlds away.

I hold my hand out in the void
In case yours reaches.
You hold still on the damp floor.
Empty bottles are old friends..

I whisper like madmen, words
I don't understand.
You silently hold your breath, while
Inside storms are raging.
Fracturing physical form,
Savagely splintering spirits,
Shattering shimmering souls
In the incessant night, ****** red hue
Flowing
From Little girl Blue.

Alexandra M Burlacu Mar 2017

Momentum

How your eyes speak to mine
In the ineffable silence,
How my right hand
Makes your left
Right as rain,
How your sighs tell the truth
About my laughter,
How one step of mine
Encapsulates exactly
Two of yours,
How I hear the cracking
Of your knuckles
From miles and miles
Away,
How you touch my fears
When everyone
Stares into the darkness,
How close we are,
Don't you see?