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Gabrielle Diaz Jan 2013
Hating you I do not do.

My own self is who my anger lies with now.

For it is of my own will that when I think of you- see you

that I do not feel whole;

it is like a piece of me is missing, just out of reach, maybe even dead.

I feel different now.

I have somehow picked up my shattered pieces and glued

them back together,

yet it feels as though they are arranged differently now..

I am uncertain if you took a part of me with you,

or if I put it in your pocket.

Or better yet there remains a possibility it roams endlessly, alone, with no set destination,

maybe even searching for the pieces of you it once knew.

I remain in the corner of my mind,

crying inside, screaming, clawing at a way out, yearning for that missing piece of me- you.
Gabrielle Diaz Jan 2013
Your words- your
indifference,

they turned me to stone.
My heart- my once liquid
insides- are hardened now.

I bet you could capture the envy of Medusa herself.

Reality visited and crushed me to marble bits.
You took a piece with you,
I thought to cherish always.

But you tossed it- me
into the seemingly bottomless ocean
without ever looking back; you wouldn’t dare.

I remain still, unmoving.
I know not of time any longer.

Darkness so endless,
where light is but a distant stranger.

Sound does not travel a journey that far.

This liquid barrier is the only touch I have to comfort me.
Gabrielle Diaz Jan 2013
the weight of my life

so heavy it crushes me

I hear my ribs break
Gabrielle Diaz Jan 2013
ice-cold to the touch

a heart of stone, you’re bloodless

that is what you are
Gabrielle Diaz Jan 2013
hands covered in blood

covering the gaping hole

you left in my chest
A haiku that broke my writers block
Gabrielle Diaz Dec 2012
I have wept in endless meadows

while I have plucked

the petals of every single flower

that I have laid my fingers upon

and each time they tell me,

“He loves me not,”

I find another flower.
Gabrielle Diaz Dec 2012
What will become of me

when you find another?

What will happen to these lips

that used to kiss you deeply,

and these fingertips

that used to touch you sweetly?

I can tell you that

these eyes

will drown themselves

with sorrow,

each night they close

I wonder

will you still love me

tomorrow?
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