i wrote so many poems,
for a girl who'd never see,
i stopped writing poems.
that girl is dead to me;

i lost my power and source of thought when writing,
she was gone,
nothing to hold on to,
only those three words,
that traced the page,
over and over;

i
love
you

~ d.a

A train hit me, ran me over, ******* killed me when I saw you today. 
You smiled and I melted like the very first day.
I was flooded with our memories.. 
I was drowning in your voice..
I wanted to stare into your eyes and make you remember our beautiful love story.
But I know that it will never be again.
I miss you..
And I regret never telling you that I love you

~ d.a

i own more books than friends,

i need to return the books back to the library,
that i've kept since august,
but those words on that page kept me sane,

the words are real and everything a person could never be,
a person you call a friend is never always there,
when you need them most,
they let you down and even though you're suffering and drowning in your anxieties,
they are forgetting your mere existence,
but the pages on that book are the ones,
i hold close to my heart,
because they get me through the days when i need to grocery shopping,
but instead i'm smoking,
wishing,
the pain away that in hope i will one day be okay


~ d.a

I know you deeper than footprints
forming pock-like lakes in mud
after rain, mud that cakes between
teeth in boot and tire treads, mud that
tastes like 7-years-old and a dare.

I feel you heavier than tongues
made thick with alcohol and regret,
tripping like that one time I said
“I love you” to your full name,
first-middle-last syllables falling
together foreign and unfamiliar.

I see you brighter than bonfires
break dark with sparks that testify
to the momentary brutality of
hope, to the truth that smiles fade
in time with the passing of warmth.

I hear you sharper than winter’s sting
on blushing cheeks, cracked lips that
bear, and bare say bring it. Bring
flood, bring torrential, bring avalanche,
bring cataclysmic. I’m ready.

~ d.a

If I could draw
I would paint you a masterpiece
with every colour of the rainbow on a never-ending canvas,
just to remind you
that there is light and colour
in every moment of everyday,
and beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

if I could sing,
I would pen you a thousand melodies
to lift your soul into the heavens
on days where it felt
like you were six feet under.

if I could run,
I would soar across this city
with cups of tea and the warmest blanket,
to make you feel safe
on the nights you felt completely lost.

but all I can do is write.
so I will ink you some sorry word
in the hope that you’ll understand
that I love you,
and think that there is stardust
gleaming out of your every pore.


~ d.a