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 Dec 2013 Diab did
Dany
r. v.
 Dec 2013 Diab did
Dany
She is the first girl
I've ever looked this way
and I find it so hard
not to look at her.

I can't decide what I like the most about her.
I love her eyes.
They're so close to each other, in a funny yet adorable way.
That big and dark brown pair. Oh, it's my favorite.

And the way her hair brings that shape to her face
just makes that doll-faced appear in my thoughts.
I don't really like her hair. But that I want to run my finger through it...
                                                           ­                                       yes, it's true.

Even her giving name agrees she stands out.
Too bad she prefers to call herself another name
but, at least there's someone
who enjoys
pronouncing it.

                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                     d.g
 Dec 2013 Diab did
Dany
And how happy you are thinking about someone
who is not me, but how happy I get whenever I see you smiling.  How adorable you look.
I've been thinking about the way your eyes
automatically go down whenever you're walking
alone and don't want to look at someone directly in their eyes. How adorable you look.
I've been thinking about how your eyes shine
when you're playing and joking with your friend.
Your friend that I guess you're in love with.
How adorable you look
How happy you look
How unhappy
I feel.

But I'm not blaming you. It was my mistake.
For if I have looked at another direction
I wouldn't be thinking about you.
 Dec 2013 Diab did
Jessica Matyas
this is dumb
and I am dumb
and I do not know why
but I cannot stop myself from
tumbling deeper and deeper into
this pit of intense emotions towards
you, and only you, and I do not understand
why I can't control myself, why I can't
stop thinking about the way it
might feel when you touch
my face or when I hold
your hand
please
stop
me
 Dec 2013 Diab did
Jessica Matyas
how is it that something so simple
as a glimpse of you smiling and turning away
can send my heart into a frenzied pace?
 Dec 2013 Diab did
Jessica Matyas
here's the thing:
I know I am needy and jealous,
and my skin is only pretty in the summer,
and my hair frizzes more often than not,
and my nose is too big for conventional beauty

I know that I talk funny a lot,
and my body is disproportionate
(just like my music taste),
and I never really know what I'm talking about,
and my hands are always cold and clammy

I know that I apologize too much (sorry),
and that I usually make a big deal out of nothing,
and that I usually look angry,
even when I'm happy

I know that my exuberance is hard to handle,
and that I am easy to disappoint
and easy to be disappointed in,
and that I lose motivation too quickly,
and that my smile is too often late and clumsy

I know all these things aren't so great,
(and I know of many more),
but I know that
I am caring and loyal
and my skin gets tan
and warm and filled with sunlight
and my eyelashes are long and full
and when I smile for real,
it is sincere and warm and genuine

I know that I hold myself to higher standards,
and that I get very passionate about little things,
and that I read a lot more than most

I know that I am compassionate and considerate,
and find happiness in the smallest details

And I know that I am hardworking
(when I need to be),
but I also know how to relax,
and I can handle my own burdens
(as well as some of yours)

so between the pros and cons,
I hope someone will someday
find it in their heart
to fall in love with me
as I have done with you
Early.
I became the bottom of a shoe. Worthless, unwarranted, but there, needed.
Rubber and worn, worn away to the thinnest part, and still used.
Hands became words, and hugs became extinct, tears became invisible, the 'childhood' was erased.
Diabetes became my mother, known as rejection, and depression, her twin, known as rage.
Insulin and Fluoxetine became my equally demanding toddlers; I was feeding a family of 6 at the age of 8.
Later.
I watched my brother become a tortured child, in his sleep - the sound of his waterproof sheets would keep me awake, as i lay worried that his screams were words he could not utter at his age.
I watched my sister grow cold as she watch her house burning down around her, and crying tears at the loss of her childhood, her eyes burned at me.
As i looked in the mirror, when i cried,  i would flush the toilet just to hear what it feels like to be washed away.
Disappeared down the drain.
I shrunk 4 inches in 4 years, one inch for each bottle of poison, that said 'drink me'.
I shrunk 4 inches in another 4 years for every word that said 'eat me'.
I shrunk so that I could not grow, up.
Later still.
I became broken, hard to 'fix'.
I became lost, without a cause.
I became the rebel, odd-one-out.
Family grew fractured, broken mirrors lay on all our floors, that we skirted around, lest we should bled it all out, what had happened.
Relationships broke, one after another, after, another, after, another, after....
Faces lost feeling, words became laws, feelings became problems, love became, raw and unused.
We dissipated, dissolved, into a million pieces of broken, into the world, held together by very thin words of 'family'
Now.
I am not a child anymore.
It's time to be heard.
It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.
I want to warm my hands in you,
the soft merrigold folds of your
buttercream skin.
Lay in the crook your shoulder,
hiding my face deep in the smell
of ocean breezes and mist,
spraying up around me,
setting me free.
Trace my spine like the highway,
hitting every bump in the road,
sliding off the side once in awhile
to skirt down the ***** if my side;
tuck your knees to your chin,
like you do,
like you are.
How when I think of you,
I think of the cosmos,
and nebulas,
and star filled spaces
All clustering like broken glass.
Because that's what you are,
you are broken glass.
See through in most places,
Tiny splinters here and there,
so you can
Still see through,
see your reflection,
But when the glare hit just right,
you are inpenetrable,
no ones eyes able to look for long.
I wonder what you think of when you
think of me?
Do you think of wind?
Always around you,
touching inch of your skin,
setting you free,
or setting against you,
heavy.
Or do you think of somethin else?
Something worse?
Something,
like invisibility maybe?
Can you really see me?
Cause I don't think you can.
Not with the way you treat me.
Pretending I exist only half the time.
You let me do things for you,
put myself out there..
And then I get excited about something ,
or maybe I need you.
And you jut sit there,
and pretend I don't exist.
And it feels like my lungs have been cut out.
But it's okay,
what's the point of breathing anyways?
When the life is knocked of you,
again,
and again.
When you watch the one you love the most become unhappy.
And there's nothing you can do about it because they won't let you in.
They don't want to share with you,
even though they know you wouldn't do or say anything to hurt them.
At least not intentionally.
And you ask and ask them what's wrong.
But they keep quiet and just distance themselves away from you.
You ask what's wrong,
They tell you they need space.
So you give it to them.
They probably just need to push you ways because they know you see everything about them.
You can see through them like glass,
and they don't want you to see how they're shattered.
So you think about them at night,
before you sleep.
About their smile and their laugh.
How you miss it.
And you'd do anything to get it back.
To breathe some life into your ghost.
And then finally,
when you think you may be getting somewhere with them,
maybe they'll tell you their secrets,
tell you what's hurting them.
So you say it..
You say it all.
I hate what's hurting you,
and I'd do or give anything to make it stop.
And you wait for them to respond,
but when they do all they say is
Okay, I'll be fine! Thanks.
And you just sit there with your eyes stinging because they are so much apart of you that when they're away from themselves,
they're away from you too.
It's like you can't breathe right.
So here I am sitting, worrying.
Wondering when you'll let me through.
Wishing I could drive to your house right now,
come through your door,
hold your face in my hands so I can see your eyes and you can see mine..
Looking into nothing but honesty,
so that if one doesn't tell the truth,
the other can see it right away.
Or maybe I'd be too chicken with such a direct approach,
knowing you don't like my finger prints staining your skin.
So I'd wait till we went to bed,
you lying on your side and I on mine.
Whispering in scratchy voices,
I'd ask what's wrong.
I'd hope you'd tell me.
Maybe if your answer was said in a dark room,
the heaviness would disappear from your words,
letting them float up to the ceiling until they escaped out the window.
I can't say for sure.
You don't open up.
And it kills me to know that,
that you can't even for me.
And it kills me more that my words probably wouldn't help you at all,
even if I said them a million times.
So I'll just repeat myself and say I'm here for you,
always.
And you'll probably repeat yourself too,
and say that you'll be fine.
Straight from the heart.
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