Alexandra M Burlacu: Favorites

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

Chase Gallagher

Coming to terms with the unexpected death of a friend is something I unfortunately have a lot of experience with. But maybe i wasnt supposed to get so used to it, because now fate is showing me what it feels like to mourn the living. Ive been blessed with the best of friends with the worst of troubles. Its like watching a faulty light bulb flicker in and out of my life, never staying off. Is this my punishment for becoming numb to the feeling of loss? Or is it the indomitable human spirit gasping for air and refusing to go quietly? These are my trials, lest I allow apathy to consume me. I am a man of persistent love fueled by my own precious fear of death. As long as there is a pulse, I wont stop fighting. I love you and im not leaving.

#love #life #death #friendship #perseverance #mourning

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

you look saddest in red

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

Rapunzoll

you look saddest in red

it's the emotional
strip-tease,
the tingling,
depressions hand
on your thighs,
his skin is soothing
enough but his
nails curve red moons
into those pretty
little girl tights.
they ******* so well,
anxieties got a
mean eye,
for the girls with
insecurities,
they're the most fun,
swallowing back
their screams, saving
them for the
bedroom at night.
you find them in
the morning teasing
the pill bottle,
they got a will to live
stuck in their throat.
doctors say there's a
heartbeat but
no heart.
all their red dresses
over the floor,
the first of many
warning signs,
red dresses to funerals,
red dresses to slide
down the underbelly
of dissatisfaction.
they sleep without love,
exhaling demons on
the balcony, until
they burn like stubs
in their eyes.

© copyright

i was kind of thinking of mental health as these abusive figures in a girls life. red is often said to be the angry/passionate colour, i was thinking about a girl wearing it a lot as a warning sign, a sort of cry for help, that keeps getting misinterpreted and leading to more abuse.

#love #sad #depression #life #heart #pain #death #hurt #thoughts #you

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

into love and heartache

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

Rapunzoll

into love and heartache

hand reaching over
the phantom scars on her leg,
eyes profoundly broken as
flickering christmas lights,
a child weeping inside
the grown woman.
she smiles, she sighs.
there is grey where there
used to be sunshine,
there are desolate trees,
where the birds used to sing,
and crane their necks
like curious strangers,
at women who sit on lone benches
cradling palms,
stirring up memories of
touch so gentle it hurt.
until people float in and out
like a lifebuoy at sea,
until a wolfish man in scruffs
whistles and waves slowly,
as though time itself has broken.
she sinks deeper into herself,
into the womb of mothers;
into all the love
and all the heartache.

#love #poem #sad #heart #pain #death #hurt #thoughts #you #heartbroken

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

timespill

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

Lora Lee

timespill

depleted
of energy,
a weight of gold
upon my heart,
its heavy dull luster
pushes down hard
squeezing out
        the light
suffocating
    my staccato
of breath
     I crouch
quietly
in the brush,
the next step in
my process
                 pending
a dense rock
of pendulum
swaying time
  tick ticking
in my blood
cells reaching
the boiling point
just shy
of spilling over
into froth
waiting for
this conundrum
        to unravel,
my inner tigress
about to unfurl
             her heart
    to leap
and pounce
from
   within
into the
  tight
white
          of blinding
snow, the silent
storm of
      the unknown
forever

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2LQdh42neg

Thank you, everyone, for your support and lovely, warm comments!! It is so appreciated <3

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

boxes

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

eleanør

boxes

i keep my depression locked in a box.
it's not a particularly large one,
or anything ornate
but a box nonetheless.
it's roughly the shade of a rain cloud
about to burst.
it has a vague beauty about it.
this box has the innocence of a small child
the mystery and danger
of Pandora's box.

the more i think about it
it's not just one box.
i have enough boxes,
to build a castle
much like one a toddler would build.
my depression,
my anxiety,
my fears,
my love.
boxes stacked,
neatly, rows.
they fit around eachother,
forming a larger box.

sometimes i wonder
if the state of the boxes
determines how i feel.
if the anxiety box is knocked to the left
am i more anxious?
if it falls off the tower,
am i going to lose it completely?

i keep all of my feelings in perfectly square boxes
each a different shade of rain cloud
all stacked neatly,
in order.

this happened around 3:30 this morning,
i awoke in a panic,
what am i supposed to do when this is a daily occurrence.

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

The way home at night

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

Ben M

The way home at night

Winter anticipated the night and the stars
And I walk immensely immersed in them.
If warm lighting reminds me that I exist,
The sporadic lights on the cars think I still persist.

After all, only the stars trigger the act of dreaming,
In this journey traversed by nostalgia
Of all the contemplated heavens I've ever dared to wish.
The cold road is the only way.

The life, which I thought I knew, was made in fleeting hours,
Somehow I need to go where I really belong,
That place of latent presences so often felt,
Behind my mind.

Home is not about a place, it is a feeling,
That suppresses the urge to wander indefinitely.
Although knowing that reality it´s falling apart
I'll go home.

#home #solitude #reality #stars #night #way #solace

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

Abstraction

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

Ben M

Abstraction

The butterfly of fragile wings
Flies between thorns
With such graceful turns,
As when it is caressed
By the sweet aroma
Of a myriad of flowers.

#flowers #butterfly #wings #graceful #aroma #abstraction

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

Alcoholism

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

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

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

My Father's Daughter

Mar 2017 Alexandra M Burlacu

L B

My Father's Daughter

I stood in the February snow
the freezing sleet
no boots
no coat
Steam wafting off my fury

My father read the lie
two hundred yards away
and walking toward me

So I owned it
told it
With a snarl
Without a flinch
Both knowing

I held my ground before him
and wore the red of his hand
on my face for a week

Thank you everyone for the views and comments.  The Daily was a nice surprise this evening.

There were five of us kids.  I was the only one who ever did anything like this.  It was like my father needed someone to stop him sometimes.

My father asked, "What are you doing out here?"
I lied,  "Getting some air."

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1801472/the-mayor-of-wesson-street/