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 May 2015 Domina Gamboa
you were drowning,
and i stood there watching,
not that i did not care,
but because i cared too much.

i was scared
that if i swam to save you,
i'll end up drowning
both of us.
— to jgt;
 Aug 2014 Domina Gamboa
Maybe if I step on
enough flowers
or break
I just might forget
I'm made of broken parts
my fave piece </3
I think that I shall never see
A leaf as lovely without a tree
When it falls upon the ground
So gently placed to be found.
A child gathers it in her hands
Carefully places it on the sands
Hoping to grow a brand new tree
For all the world new life to see.
The last four lines had many interruptions (5 year old). Changed direction at least three times. Could not remember where it was going. The child was driving this one.
I used to sing in the shower
Dance like I was in the rain
Watch all of my worries
Be washed down the drain

I’d use all the hot water up
The mirror covered in steam
So the bathroom was foggy
Like on a cloud, in a dream

I’d wash my body with soap
That smelled just of a daisy
So I was clean and sweet
Then I’d shampoo like crazy

I used to sing in the shower
But that was when I had him
When he left I was drowning
And he knew I can’t swim

So now I sit in the shower
No dancing like in the rain
Because each time I cry
And I remember the *pain
"Before I met him, I would dance in the shower. When he was in my life, I would think about showering with him. After he left, I would sit on the ground in the shower and cry. When I got over him, I showered so quickly there was no time for dancing, fantasies, or tears. Someone can invade the smallest parts of your life, you won't even realize it until you dance in the shower again and wonder why you ever stopped."
The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes
That the apple’s a rose,
And the pear is, and so’s
The plum, I suppose.
The dear only knows
What will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are a rose—
But were always a rose.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

— The End —