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 Dec 2015 Dianna
Dhaye Margaux

You are every word I put
In this jar of  lines that I keep for so long
Like every breath that I breathe
And every single beat of my heart

You are the wish of forever
The moment I stare up to the sky
And wait for a shooting star
Or just look at those stellar bodies
Find the most radiant of them all
And uncover your eyes in it
Like staring at me soulfully

I hear your whispers in the wind
And even in the drops of water
Like the rain that washes my spirit
Or the sound of the waves
That always echo on the walls of my soul
Like those children playing
At the back of my mind

You never leave me in my dreams
Your touch always comfort me
With those words I need to carry on

You are my song
Your words, my melody

You are my song
My love forever

 Feb 2015 Dianna
Emily Dickinson

I felt a Cleaving in my Mind—
As if my Brain had split—
I tried to match it—Seam by Seam—
But could not make it fit.

The thought behind, I strove to join
Unto the thought before—
But Sequence ravelled out of Sound
Like *****—upon a Floor.
 Feb 2015 Dianna
 Feb 2015 Dianna
you're ruining me
I never think much about the fact that I am black.
I know I am black.
Like I know I am a girl,
Like I know I am an American,
Like I know I am nineteen.
It is a fact; I am black.

I hate when people say I am not.
My parents are black.
Their parents are black.
We are black.
Look at my skin,
It's dark and it's beautiful.
How could I not be black?
I am black.

I hate when people say I don't 'act' black.
How does one act to be considered black?
How am I acting? How is it not black?
Look at my skin,
It's dark and it's beautiful.
How could I not act black?
I am black.

I hate when people say I speak like a white person.
A way of speaking is not exclusive to race.
I am not white.
I do not speak like a white person.
My words are coming out of my black mouth.
I speak properly,
The way my black parents raised me to.
Look at my skin,
Its dark and it's beautiful.
How could I not speak black?
I am black.

I HATE when people say I am a white person trapped in a black body.
I have NEVER heard anything more insulting.
I am NOT trapped.
This color is NOT a cell.
I wear it proudly.
Look at MY skin,
It is DARK and it is BEAUTIFUL!
How could I ever be trapped?
I am black.

I am in no way white,
Nor do I ever want to be.
I am black
And black is beautiful
I am black; that is never going to change.
 Feb 2015 Dianna
 Feb 2015 Dianna
I am scared.
I am scared of myself.
Of my mind.
Of who can see the mind I have.
I am scared.

I am scared.
I am scared to hear.
Sacred to think.
Scared to be.
I am scared of me.

I am scared.
I am scared of who is in my head.
I am scared.
I am scared.
 Jan 2015 Dianna
hani shibli
He wonders in an ascending thunder.

He roams in an aspiring trail,
which excites without fail.
He please's like a contagious disease.

Do you love me, do you hate me?
The little boy used to ask.
A smile in his eyes,
used to confuse
and bemuse.
Some it would anger,
and to some,
it would intrigue.
he knew,
it was only a smile.
Mischief was his game,
adventure his name.
Love in his heart,
to the end from the start.
Till death to him part.
Memories from childhood, where innocence was, and still could be.
 Jan 2015 Dianna
 Jan 2015 Dianna
   ed the others
   fall over several
sets•leaving you alone
shivering on a spindly twig
•the winds of autumn had whis-
pered their threats...•to sweep you
off your perch into the world so big
•the season had almost gone to make
way for another•answering the sum-
mons of winter's call•had anticipated
the coming of your departure•...i had  
sworn to myself to catch you as you'd  
fall•for a brief moment, i had turned  
away•to tend to commitments that  
came with dawn...•i returned to  
stay and wait another day...•  
but the wind had come  
while i was
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