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485 · May 2014
A Love
Isadora Swift May 2014
The first time
That I saw you,
I knew it was true.

That forever,
I'd love you,
and that's what I'll do.

You don't know
what you do to me,
you don't have a clue.

You don't know
what it's like for me,
Me looking at you.

Four years before you,
I was shattered apart,
with nothing to do.

A year before us too,
A boy broke my heart,
and left it for you.

Cupid chose us,
was it our zodiac,
or did he not mean to aim?

Now I realise,
I haven't looked back
since the day that you came.
394 · May 2014
Obsession
Isadora Swift May 2014
I love him with every fibre of my heart,
and for each and every day that would start,
he steals another piece, tearing my soul apart.

You would think a boy as handsome as he,
would take pity on a lonesome girl like me,
what a simple love, ours could be.

His words hang in my head for days,
and I study all his beautiful ways,
even when in another's bed, he lays.

His eyes are darker than the devil's wealth,
His love is adorned with gifts from himself,
But from him, all I want, is a lifetime together, of health.

A second look is all my heart craves,
maybe even a smile, a gaze, a wave,
or maybe for our wedding day, he saves.

If he falls for me, I cannot be to blame,
if his love, like mine, became the same,
after all she is such a dreary dame.

Last night I sat by his windowsill,
watching him lay calm and stilled.
But she awoke and I distilled,
his maiden from his heart, I killed.
356 · May 2014
Child to a Father in Heaven
Isadora Swift May 2014
"I am sorry, I am selfish,"

Tonight again, I pray for you,
I am a silly child, I lie.
To pray would be a misguided description.
I scream not for you but to have you by my side, not his.
I ask nothing more than a child should from the world,
I ask that every time that my heart is wrenched,
It is not because my mother’s voice cracks at your name.
I am sorry, I am selfish.

I apologise for my anguish, my anger, my agony.
I apologise for the tears that stain, like blood, this paper.
I apologise for all that has been done,
For me to deserve these lonely nights of terror.
May I ask, again, what was that?
That which dealt me this darkened hand?
And that which sealed my tormented fate,
Of this fatherless existence?
I am sorry, I am selfish.

Need I say that these words I write on this page,
Are being driven into the paper,
With such force and anger,
That the pen snaps and the paper shreds?
As if my head has deceived my hands,
That the more power and convictions put into a phrase,
Will make it loud enough to earn God’s glance?
He has no father, he cannot comprehend.
I am sorry, I am selfish.

I am sorry, I am selfish.
Do not listen to me.
I am a child without direction,
I am a child without a father.
This is the last time I can allow myself,
To fall to my knees and beg.
This is the last time I can allow myself,
To demand your return from the callous embrace of death.
This time I have failed you,
I am sorry, I am selfish.

"forgive me."
328 · May 2014
In bed
Isadora Swift May 2014
Each time your hand runs over my body,
I think of you and I, and what you must see.
A thousand tiny shocks immobilise my head,
But I know we are alone
and in bed.

Your mouth moves in harmony with mine,
The thunder calls and the stars are align.
You don’t care that my face turns red,
Because here we are alone
and in bed.

I worry our friendship may never be the same.
But as soon as your mouth murmurs out my name,
I see our future and the words that are unsaid.
As we lay here alone
and in bed.

I feel your heat, my skin against yours,
You seem to see things which he only ignores.
When I plan what I will say to him, I feel only dread,
But I wake up here alone
and in bed.

I rush around the house looking for you,
But your car and blue coat are gone too.
However, I  imagine the day that we are to wed,
Darling, oh darling, if only,
you were not dead.
286 · May 2014
Schizophrenic
Isadora Swift May 2014
Inside of me there is two different faces,
When one talks, the other is bound by her laces.

She comes alive when people come near,
She hides, completely paralysed by fear.

She flirts with all the boys and is labelled a "*****",
She feels like a four year old, but nothing more.

She is arrogant and mean to every soul she meets,
She sees the beauty in all, even in the darkening streets.

She is blinded by cheap make-up and danger,
She prays each day, for the boy in the manger.

She uses her father as a behavioural excuse,
She sits at home, trying to tighten the noose.

She is a wreck, a monster, a worthless lost cause,
She picks up the blade, writing behind locked doors.

She climbs up to the roof, higher and higher,
She steps a little closer, enjoying the fire.

Its funny how two so different, could end up the same,
Both are in heaven,
their other halves to blame.

Sometimes I wonder which one was the real me,
or was each of them a side,
either I could be?
283 · May 2014
Phoenix
Isadora Swift May 2014
This is the tale of a girl who is blind,
  she sees her life through a tormented mind.
This is why I have come to tell you,
  that no matter what, this Phoenix, shines true.

A quick blade to the wrist,
  thinned by demons but sun-kissed.
A blade pressed close to the thigh,
  nobody dares to to turn and ask her why.

She is beautiful and shines,
  as she recites her learnt lines.
She doesn't realise her allure,
  all she sees is the body she helped disfigure.

A boy calls her name,
  she runs, they are all the same.
She has been hit far too often,
  to hand them the gun again.

She is clouded by her past and present,
  to even consider how the future could be pleasant.
Too heavily chained and tied,
  Too many pieces, broken inside.

She just has to learn to remember,
  She is a only tiny flame, an ember.
It takes time to burn brighter,
  and to find the angel to light her.

It takes time to rise high from the ashes,
  and to overcome some down-to-earth crashes.
She will crumble, and cry, and fall
  But she will rise again, be there no doubt at all.

She is a phoenix, a bird, a creature.
  Of only one thing can we really be sure,
do not try to take her powers,
  for she would die, and the guilt, be ours.

So to end this tale, I tell to thee,
  remember,remember, please, that she,
She is a child of head and a warrior of heart,
  she made slave of the fire that couldn't tear her apart.

Stand by her and you will see,
  the truth in these words spoken by me.
She will learn to chase her dreams.
  and that the world is not always, as bad as it seems...
231 · May 2014
You and I
Isadora Swift May 2014
Last night you held me in your arms,
I sat as you hushed and you calmed.
You wiped away each of my tears,
And chased away each of my fears.
As I ran my fingers through your hair,
I couldn't help but stop and stare.
Your blue eyes laughed at my furrowed brow,
as I struggled to comprehend just how
You escaped from heavens gate,
and ran from your pre-decided fate.

— The End —