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 Mar 2016 Ariel Baptista
gleck
Dehydrated skin, like leather
You being here doesn't make it better

Forehead against forehead
I feel my temperature rise

You make me sick to my stomach
Dear -
Darling -
My little stomach bug
 Mar 2016 Ariel Baptista
R
She described me as Tom Buchanan.
She immediately said that I wasn't violent like him,
but that I could easily be him...
I could easily show his side.
I could be brutish and abusive
and dishonest and an adulterer
and greedy and pretentious.
I could be all of those things so easily.
It's as if a switch goes off in my brain that says,
"Hey, let's be an ******* today."
I don't want to be.
I don't want to be seen as Tom Buchanan.
I don't want to be the man who hurts so many
and truly loves so few.
I want to be so much more than that.
I don't necessarily want to be like Daisy or Jordan or Myrtle or Nick or
even like Gatsby himself.
I want to be like myself.
I want to be the girl that I'm meant to be
and I know that I am not right now
nor have I been for quite some time.
I just want to be the woman God made me to be and
I'm tired of being such a catastrophe in the making and
for ruining and hurting those around me.
I don't want to be that girl.
I don't want to be like Tom Buchanan.
I want to be me...
The real me.

*...who am I?
Reading "The Great Gatsby" and I'm thinking about who I am compared to who I want to be/who I'm meant to be.
People are quick to judge, yet they rarely take a true look at themselves.
I'm tired of not looking and pretending it's all okay.
Most of my actions haven't been okay.
I guess I just think it's time to do some spring cleaning in my life, especially with myself.
You are my lullaby
Tossing and turning overnight
Through the dark and beyond the light
You are my lullaby

You are my late night thoughts
It's 2 am and I won't get caught
Letting in all the things I've fought off
You are my late night thoughts

You are my aching soul
For life or death, I'll never know
God forbid the pain reflect or show
You are my aching soul

You are my breaking heart
I think you're sad and I think you're hurt and that's just the start
Nevertheless, you're a work of art
You are my breaking heart

You are out of my reach
Teasing, taunting, betraying my being
All of these thoughts aren't mine to keep
You are so out of my reach

You are my lullaby
As I fall apart and start to cry
Wanting to sleep until I die
You are my lullaby
Did Noah sail
the Ark of
the Covenant
to Axum?
 Mar 2016 Ariel Baptista
gleck
Scar
 Mar 2016 Ariel Baptista
gleck
Bleach me like the whitest hair
I long to feel the burn under my skin

Darling your claws are sharp
But they don't reach within me

I hope you leave marks
I hope it leaves scars

So that I may remember you;
- when we eventually part.
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