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Dacia B Oct 2017
no one cares
no one can see
the inner demons
that torture me
i must bleed
i cut a hole
bleed out
bleed out my soul
i must die
i need to disappear
in my wake
there will be no despair
Dacia B Jul 2017
Little one,
I didn't know you were there until I lost you
I didn't know you were mine until you were gone
You had I heart I could have loved
But you never drew a breath
The pain in my body was fleeting, the pain in my heart is not.
You never had a name but you named yourself and told me in my dreams
In my dreams i saw your face but then you left
To a place I cannot go or see
Only in my sleep, little one.
I would have given you my heart, all of it if I could.
I wish I got to hold you in my arms, little one.
But you're gone now.
Dacia B Jun 2017
Sometimes I like to get lost in the garden of my past
Bask beneath the moon of yesteryear,
lapping up her silvery rays of reminiscing.
I look around at the orchard of my recollection,
each tree ripe with the fruit of my memories.
This garden is my sanctuary.
This garden is my solace.
But sometimes this garden is my prison.
Sometimes the fruit is rotten and the trees are bare.
Sometimes the fields are barren and the fog blankets all celestial bodies.
Then it is darkness and numbness, not even the soft grass that caressed my infant feet can be felt.
It is a place of solitude, of serenity, and of  sorrow.
For it is here that I bury my forgotten dreams beneath the trees of fruition.
It is mine to tend and nurture.
As it is my only true possession.
Dacia B Jun 2017
Lost for words, don't know what to say?
Let's make one up, call it Covfefe
Syrian refugees, lost their home and have no place to stay?
I will send them to Covfefe
Too many Mexicans get into the country with a secret way.
I will stop them with Covfefe
These people want 'equal rights' the women trans and gay,
They won't get them after Covfefe
Climate change causes so much stress and dismay.
I will deny that it exists, Covfefe!!
**** women with their 'equal pay'
I say grab them, grab them by the Covfefe.
Dacia B May 2017
"I'm not sure I've ever been in love. I've had girlfriends
but I think I loved them as a friend" - M.

"Well being in love is terrifying. You lose all control over your emotions.
basically, you have no chill
'But it's beautiful. It's like everything turns from discord into a harmonious crescendo" -Me

"Well I've never had that" -M

"I have. And once was enough" -Me
Dacia B May 2017
Oh God,
This city,
Where we used to walk,
Where I heard you sing,
Where We danced,
Held hands,
All these memories in a shadow realm of the past.
A past swaddled in self-doubt and resentment.
Love me again. If you ever did.
You did not, You trailed me along as an embellishment to your carriage of aesthetics
How I begged you to love me
To see my soul
My little soul
Swimming in its little glass bell jar
So isolated and parched for love.

This city
This haunted city
Stirring with memories of our laughter
Of your story
Of my observance.

This city
Haunting me
Taunting me
With a rose tinted
Projection of my past actions

But this city
Took me into her bowels
And flooded my clear, sweet mind with rancid, spewing clouds
That flooded my soul’s windows
With tears of lamentation
For a life
Never lead
For a life
That was robbed
And then stabbed and left to bleed

Oh this city
This empty city
Filled with hollow facades and international portholes.
Warm bodies leaving a pleasant atmosphere into an abyss of staged streets

This city in which the last breath of us was drawn
In which I chased you
Lost in your trail of your French girls and unrequited love
I consumed your leftover affections
With the knowledge of never having your heart
But to only bear witness to your thoughts
Your lovely thoughts
Lined with silver.

Here in this city
Where your divine thoughts ascended to the heavens
Too brilliant and bright to me, earthbound
We built beautiful conversations together
That will echo in my mind

Never leaving my bell jar

Oh this city
How I could roam her streets in my mind
Each providing a memory
Not just of you
But of my always empty heart

This city
Will smoulder
Betwixt the two blades of the coast
And the soil
Home to the little cold wooden boxes
Forever be out of my reach

In this city
My own city
I shall bury my memories
Write them an elegy
And find another

A new city
Where the streets are cobbled
And the walkers are clad in woollen coats
Where the buildings speak a different language
And her streets are empty
Empty of memories
A city where I can leave you behind
And write a new love story
For myself only.
Dacia B Apr 2017
my feet still,
incessantly gliding
through the memories of others
a forged collective consciousness
“he understood” my heart sung
about the brightness, the motion, the impression.

the snapshot of the tête-à-tête
of everyone’s personal Matinée
a wistful stare down a water glass, the motion and destruction of ballet
flash of new technology
an advent of photography
light’s dance over a bale of hay
on a cold, sparkly winter’s day
a stark, gaze of a *** Olympic
cold, unromantic and simplistic
depiction of the human eye which would take flight
and end up landing in a Starry Night.
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