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Isabella James Nov 2010
Empty blank faces on a empty black stage.
Empty dry words on a blank page.

Vacant dead noise causing not a sound.
Vacant wet rain on a longing ground.

Dead little heartbeat deep inside my chest.
Dead little heart hidden behind my breast.

Missing words of courage and "I'm heres".
Missing stains from my tears.

Empty, Vacant, Missing, Dead.
Just like all the thoughts in my head.
Isabella James Nov 2010
The sound of the piano,
D r i f t s across the front lawn.
I wish, I hope, I long,
For the song to be gone.

It's filled with too many memories,
Too many good times.
Memories of laughter and smiles,
And silly old love rhymes.

Its melody is bitter-sweet,
Like the taste of fine german chocolate.
It flows like a butterfly on the breeze,
Hand in hand they fit.

More and more notes,
Come pouring out.
Too many to count,
They flit and float about.

The final note,
But a single C.
Is the one,
That gets to me.

The end so simple,
So final, so true.
Is not that much different,
From the end of me and you.
Isabella James Nov 2010
Who do you think you are?
A sage, a knight, a king?
A big spender?
With a fat diamond ring?

Who do you think you are?
A co-worker, a friend?
A true lover?
Till the end?

Is that who you think you are?
My lover, my friend?
Then why did you treat me,
Like the money you lend?

Why did you treat me like trash?
Nothing more the white trash.
That's what you said,
When my eyes rained tears the color of ash.

WHY?
Was I just some prize to be won?
Was I just another woman,
That might bear your son?

Were you the maker of hearts?
Were you the water and I the steam?
Were we the stars?
Were we a dream?

What were we?
I can hardly remember now.
But your scars make you unforgettable,
For the slice through my brow.

So, who do you think you are?
Because that person you are not.
Not here, not there.
Not in your wildest thought.
Isabella James Nov 2010
Who do you think you are?
A sage, a knight, a king?
A big spender?
With a fat diamond ring?

Who do you think you are?
A co-worker, a friend?
A true lover?
Till the end?

Is that who you think you are?
My lover, my friend?
Then why did you treat me,
Like the money you lend?

Why did you treat me like trash?
Nothing more the white trash.
That's what you said,
When my eyes rained tears the color of ash.

WHY?
Was I just some prize to be won?
Was I just another woman,
That might bear your son?

Were you the maker of hearts?
Were you the water and I the steam?
Were we the stars?
Were we a dream?

What were we?
I can hardly remember now.
But your scars make you unforgettable,
For they slice through my brow.

So, who do you think you are?
Because that person you are not.
Not here, not there.
Not in your wildest thought.
Isabella James Nov 2010
I bite my lip,
So you can't see.
All the pain and sadness,
Deep inside of me.

And this disguise works,
At least for the time.
I can still call you,
And say that you're mine.

Because you don't know that I'm sad,
Or crazy or insane.
You don't know,
All the things in my brain.

You don't know the thoughts,
You don't know the fears.
You can't see the heartache,
You can't feel the tears.

You can't feel the knife edge,
You don't see the blood.
I promise it's alone a little,
No more then a flood.

Don't worry about it though,
Because I hide them every day.
When I think about it,
I know exactly what you'd say.

I'm a fool for what I did,
Just a fool without a trick.
I'm just another cat,
Who's wounds she will lick.

This disguise is working,
So I'll wear this mask till I die.
But must forgive me darling,
For I never meant to lie.
Isabella James Nov 2010
Yes, I’m leaving,
For a bit longer then a while.
Yes, I’m traveling,
Farther then a mile.

So you might think,
That all hope is lost,
And like a raging sea,
All your feelings are tossed.

But I am in the wind,
That whispers through your hair.
And I am the river,
That’s going no where.

I am the Air,
That roughs up the day.
That tells you my heartbeat,
When I’m so far away.

And I am the dreams,
That fill up you head.
I am the pillows,
That litter your bed.

I am there,
Even when I’m not.
For I am in everything,
That you’ve got.
Isabella James Nov 2010
I am the Fire,
That burns Underneath.
I am the Sand,
Who slides beneath.

I am the Passion,
That over comes my fears.
I am the Heartache,
That causes my tears.

I am the Lie,
That seeps through your lips.
I am the Naughty,
That sways your hips.

I am the Song,
That makes your heart sing.
I am the Noise,
That makes your ears ring.

I am the Bubbles,
That rise from the seas.
I am the Lock,
That takes all keys.

I am what I am,
And that you can’t change.
No matter how different,
Or special or strange.
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