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deliciae Jul 2013
in death do us part, love
please free my soul
return me to the earth
turn my body to ashes
bury me in the blackest soil

so should a Heavenly Father
never open his gates,
let Mother Earth
take good care of me

let flowers take root in me
let new beauty bloom from
where I once laid with you
and now remain forever

darling, don't weep much over me
do not mourn the loss of life
instead give breath to the new
let the only tears you cry
be to water the daisies

-*sg
deliciae Jul 2013
Just depressed? Do you even know what depression feels like? Do you know what it's like to make a list of a thousand ways to die and thinking constantly of the day when you choose one? Do you know what it's like to be the happiest you've ever been one minute but find yourself crying yourself to sleep the next? what about not sleeping at all? Do you know what it's like to have to walk the school hallways like you're dragging weights from your ankles? Do you know how it feels to get worried looks from that one teacher who senses your sadness but won't take the step to reach out to you? God, I wish someone would. Do you know what it's like to be so sad you can't even cry and you just sit there like you're dead? For hours? For days? Longer? Do you know what it's like to not even know the reason why you're feeling like you do? Do you know what it's like to even not be able to change how you feel? Do you think it's easy to "just be happy"? Oh believe me I want to be. Do you know what it's like to be at mercy to a chemical imbalance? To rely on pills just to remain "normal"? Oh please, can I just know what it's like to be normal like everyone else? Do you know what it's like for your brain to be your own worst enemy? Do you know what it's like to pretend that you're ok while this is happening to you? While you're dying on the inside and wishing you could speed up the process? Oh and by the way, no one can even help you. No one can truly understand you, except for yourself. No one. Not even the people you swear you love most of all. You know what? Sometimes you don't even understand yourself. All you know is that any happiness is fleeting and surely will soon be gone. Never-- not in a day, month or year-- can you ever find permanent relief. You feel like there are two different people occupying your body. One loves life and laughs at jokes that aren't even funny and falls in love and reads books and listens to good music and loves the sunshine. The other is a miserable and deeply self loathing being that wants to drown in darkness and spreads like a black sickness through your body wishing to take over it. The other is depression. Sadly, the other too often succeeds in taking over. You are no longer the person that loves life and laughs at jokes that aren't even funny and falls in love and reads books and loves the sunshine.  Jokes don't make you laugh anymore. Books are only a collection of meaningless words. Music is only thin repetitive sound. When the sun is out, you'd prefer to stay inside with the curtains drawn shut. As for loving life, you're not even sure you want to live anymore. You become depression; Depression becomes you. Sometimes you still like to pretend to be that happy person, but that person is barely alive anymore. You still pretend because pretending may just be the only thing keeping you sane. Other times you feel like neither the happy person nor the other are present in you. You're simply empty. You're breathing and you feel a pulse at your wrist, but inside you are nothingness. You are merely half-existing. Sometimes the emptiness hurts more than being completely consumed by the other. It hurts. It's painful. More so than any blade one can take to their own skin. I would give anything just to be able to be happy, to NOT have depression anymore, but I can't. I can't and its not fair. I've come to learn that life isn't fair, but why does this have to be my life? Did some awful omnificent being choose to make me like this? If you aren't depressed, you're **** lucky. Why is it becoming just another trend? Why on earth would you pretend to have such a horrible disorder? Why would you glamorize it with pictures of beautiful, delicate girls with pretty curls in little floral dresses dancing through a field with tears in their eyes with movie quote captions in cursive? Its not pretty. Its ugly; its sad. But, hey, you know exactly what depression is like, don't you?
deliciae Jun 2013
lying in the bed of an old pick up
parked in the loneliest part of Arizona
in the quietest pitch-black hour of night
i see a breathtakingly beautiful scene
that would rival VanGough's Starry Night
looking out across the desert horizon
i see a glowing pumpkin moon
sinking slowly into the shifting sand
like an orange midnight sunset and
the silhouetted limbs of a gnarled Joshua tree
against the midnight blue dome of
the clear dark sky illuminated by
millions of dazzling pinpoints
like diamonds shattered into pieces
and scattered through the night
though lightyears and galaxies away
I outstretch my hand trying to touch them
wanting to swirl them around with my fingers
and paint new pictures in the cosmos
I try to outline the constellations
but Orion and Cassiopeia
are lost among the sparkling stars
just as I am lost to the world for a brief moment

-*sg
deliciae Jun 2013
we walked into deep into the woods
and came upon a circle of tall birches
the smooth silver trunks marked with
initials of lovers long forgotten
who once swore their love would last
and thought to immortalise it
in the silver wood of the birch trees
where the white bark had peeled away
he ran he fingers carefully
up and down their slender trunks
feeling each little slash and ridge
though barely visible on their thin bark
then i flicked open my pocket knife
to carve our own initials into the wood
like the many young lovers before us
but as the blade touched the wood
he whispered to me quietly
"these trees are marked
by pale faded scars
like on smooth slender arms
their long delicate branches
are like slim white fingers
desperately reaching up to heaven
begging for another chance
and with help from the angels
their scars are slowly healing"
and again he ran his fingers over
their trunks to feel the white bark
then ran his fingers gently over the
pale skin of my scarred arms
and then my love, my angel
pressed his lips to each slash and scar
as if trying to heal what had been done
so I put away my blade
deciding that my love for him
would last forever
longer than the bark of the birch trees
and longer than an old scars

-*sg
deliciae Jun 2013
"will you give me your whole heart, my darling?"

my darling, my love,
my heart is not whole
it's shattered in pieces
and the pieces are lost
for I've given them all away

I gave a piece to my mother
but she traded it for a diamond ring
as she traded her family
for a life with a rich older man

I gave a piece to my father
but he forgot all about my love
as he drank to forget his misery
and the love that he'd lost

I gave a piece to my baby sister
but she let it fall from her hands
as she fell too hard and too fast
into the arms of a handsome bad boy

I gave a piece to my best friend
but she took it six feet under
when she took her own life
because my love couldn't save her

I gave a piece to my first love
but he stole it from me
while he stole the hearts of other girls
because just one love wasn't enough

I kept only one piece for myself
but I threw it down a wishing well
wishing for a better life and
someone to love my broken heart

so forgive me, my love,
my heart is much to broken
to give you my whole heart
that you truly deserve

"then all I ask is for one piece, my darling"

so I gave the last piece to you
but as I laid it into your warm hands
I fell dead and laid on the cold ground
as my broken heart at last stopped beating

-
sg
deliciae Jun 2013
There's a fine line
between life
and death
like a single tightrope
strung across a black abyss
and I like to toy with death
dancing across the thin wire
like a broken ballerina
swaying precariously
wobbling and leaning
as far over as I can
before i struggle to regain balance;
its a fun game to play,
harmless really
'cause that's all this life is;
its just little game
of trying to stay alive,
a great balancing act
like walking on a tightrope
deliciae Jun 2013
we're soaring like free birds
high above the  clouds
pretending they're cotton candy
like we did when we were young

and we're gliding like paper planes
high above the problems down below
pretending they don't exist
like they did when we were young
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