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1.
julia denham Apr 2013
1.
Number: 2. Undiscovered
                3. Untamed
                 4. Untitled
                  5. Unamed
                   6. Unapproving
                    7. Unexplained
                     8. Untouched
                       9. Unchanged
                      10. Unharmed
                        11. Unchained
                         12. Unaccepted
                          13. Unaquainted
                           14. Unadmired
                             15. Unadaptable
                                1. un*desired
julia denham Jun 2013
laugh at yourself
for being so silly
scream and shout
and argue
and doubt
forget for a few
minuscule seconds
and then remember
and wish more than
ever
to                                                         ­    
forget.                                                     ­     
just hope
and long and crave
for something different
for anything exciting
but not too daring.
thrive on love or
whatever you think it is.
convince yourself that
you are starving
without its companionship,
convince yourself that
solitude
is sufficient,
while you loathe what you are
but love it more than anything;
because at the end of the day
(week, month, year, decade)
you are all you have.
julia denham Apr 2013
But let's forget
About those meaningless worries
And jump into a river
We could go skinny dipping
As the sun melts off the side of the earth
Forget regret
And hold my hand, I know its cold
Ill calm your shivers
And warm your lips
As the trees turn to intricate silhouettes
Just pretend
we're wild & free; like they say we should be
We'll poison our little livers
With laughter and loss of cares
As we become more forgetful about tomorrow
Or the next
Day. Tonight, just me and you will
Drift, together, downriver
As glass bottles float around us, enclose us
Neglect the
Natural enquiries of how late it is
Or that it's getting darker
As we drown in eachothers presence
I recommend
You let yourself be decieved
And flow downstream. We slither
Softly bumping limbs underwater "accidentally"
Don't defend
Yourself. I know we aren't in love
But could we act it? I'll deliver you kisses
as we sink
Deeper into
The depths of a pretended plot
Of an olden day flim, where the girl gives her
Spontanious side a chance;
And the boy plays his part.
julia denham Apr 2013
I think our thoughts grow like trees
All joined, intertwined, interconnected
And bother us like bumbling bees

Negative wonders, misunderstood dreams
Atempts to concour, harshly rejected
I think our thoughts grow like trees

Some as deep as the depths of unknown seas
Or as shallow as assumptions in mirrors reflected
They do bother us like bumbling bees

They blow, lost within the wind, like leaves
Millions of orphaned epiphanies; neglected
I think our thoughts grow like trees

Two conflicting hearts, one gets up and flees
"sure you're okay?" I think they've suspected
They bother us like bumbling bees

Trembling ideas, shaking like weak knees
Such heavy weights to hold are expected
I think our thoughts grow just like trees
And bother our being like bumbling bees
julia denham Apr 2013
"You!" he said
"I like your smile."
I blushed a bit,
"Yours is nice as well"
I wondered if
Perhaps he felt
He could cure me by
Passing me a compliment in the cereal aisle
I suppose I thought
It was worthwile
Since after that
Happy things complied
Inside my head
The pasrtures of happiness
became fertile
And then I thought, for a little while;
kindness between strangers
should go back in style
julia denham Apr 2013
We've mastered the art of finding sadness;
In a little house, inhabiting a tiny space
We understand its variations, its madness
We know its address, its hiding places

But happiness is more complicated
Rarely found, we're constantly searching.
Its attached to stereotypicality, abbrieviated
If not received, it causes constant hurting

It dwells over a vast continent
And thus the search is longer
We start to lose our confidence
The yearn for it grows ever stronger

The home of happiness has since grown
And iron lock placed on its door

The key seems lost, will it ever be found?
I think it lurks in disguised places
Not on sunny days, on lusious grounds
Or in gleeming eyes or smiley faces

It hides in misconception
Like a thief in the night
Drenched in deception
Ready to pounce, to fight

You off and those who stumble on
Sadness become addicted to the little house
And do not dare travel where they may get
Lost. But live in its hole, as a spinless mouse

We are terrified of the unknown
But we've never wanted something more
julia denham Nov 2013
i think
it felt like having almost no oxygen left in your flimsy lungs, or
the way alcohol let laughter tease the tip of your tongue, or
when you met someone who's eyes didn't quite make sense, or
hearing a beautiful song for the first time or watching an inspiring movie,
i think it felt like finally deciding you'd made up your mind on a matter, or
smiling to yourself when you remembered something embarrassing you did , or
when you wished you'd tried harder, or
questioning and comparing others' consequences to your own, or
sipping something intangible
when you sat alone amongst a bunch of grinning faces, contemplating whether you were locked out, or
locked in?
julia denham Apr 2013
Its back
The scrunched nose, pursed lips
Tighly shut eyes
hands can feel your crinkled skin

Its back
The nerves in your gut
Throbbing
Its come before, you know what to expect

Its back
The tears force themselves out
You gasp for air
And swallow the shivering

Its back
You wonder when it will next return
An unexpected guest,
that you were expecting soon
julia denham Apr 2013
All you were was a distraction
And an illusion
So I didn't have to face, that I had lost
And he had won

I hate him
But hate myself, more
For not being good enough
For not walking out the door

And I used you, yes
I do apologise
For hurting you like I got hurt
I'm just like him, I realize.

I am just as much
A hypocrite
As a liar and a user
And him, I shouldn't critise

Because I did to you
What he did to me
Do not let me suffocate you
There's the door; leave.
julia denham Jul 2013
I'd always been used to disappointments. Disappointments of all kind. It was funny, though, wasn't it? How people would often laugh off disappointments; shrug, smile, and say something like "oh, no, don't worry about me - i'm used to it!" truth is, they weren't. And i wasn't used to it either. We wouldn't like to admit it, but every disappointment, every failed attempt at short lived sucess, every disastrous relationship, and every bit of spilt milk came as a shock. We're always expecting a positive outcome for ourselves; that just this once things might work out. What was the opposite of the word 'disappointment'? I don't think there is one. Everything is a disappointment, felt in higher and lower variations. Everything and everyone is a neatly wrapped up parcel, with a pretty pink ribbon, that appears a present, but is actually nothing but a disappointment waiting to happen. Exploding into sighs and tears and rubbed eyes.

Humans didn't seem to notice just how much hope every fiber of their being actually contained. Strands of hope intertwined with their DNA structure. It was really the only thing that kept us going when we felt completely abandoned and lost and utterly alone. I whispered it to myself, "Hope."

That same afternoon, when you physically entered my mind (since, all this time you had been living there, mentally. Overstaying your welcome, might I add.)  I questioned the growing smile on my face, contrasted with the painful 'gut feeling' I was experiencing as well. Since you left all I'd been hoping for was that you'd come back and tell me something along the lines of,  "I was wrong, I need you. I want you" and then top it off with the overused, 'I love you' card. I'd leap into your tanned, muscular arms and then, well. Well I hadn't really thought past that moment. In the three months you had been gone, all I pictured as 'happiness' was you loving me back.

pathetic, wasn't it?
We're all just looking for something bigger than we're able to find. Searching for more substance on this little planet with these heart breaking people. Okay, okay, people weren't all that bad. But one thing that people are, unintentionally or not, is selfish. We want the best for ourselves, of course.
even though I'd guided myself to believe that my life was all about you, it was in fact all about me, me, me. There was only one 'you' but there were a billion 'me's within me. A me who is happy, a me who is sad, a me who is constantly confused and a me that convinces me I'm okay.

And you see, we are all actually okay. Perhaps being 'broken' or 'damaged' just appeared more intriguing to both others and ourselves. Did I really want to be 'happy'?
julia denham Nov 2013
i looked in the mirror
the mirror stared back, blankly,
but it couldn't fool me.
i knew it thought thoughts too,
or at least,
saw them?

i looked up at the sky
the sky peered down at me, too
i wonder if i by chance could dive into the clouds
and fall through the atmosphere, and
plummet into the earths orbit,
if i'd sink forever?

and, perhaps, eventually reach the other side of the mirror;
the one no one could ever see.
julia denham Jul 2013
You walked in through the door, your left leg stepping first over the dusty, wooden door frame. You smiled, almost nervously, but it was intriguing the way you dealt with this seemingly awkward situation. You peered down at your worn out, deep blue jeans, torn at the knees, slipping your hands into your pockets peering up at me.

There I was, practically a piece of furniture in the living room of your mind. I felt I'd been there so long that I knew everything there was to know, every painting hung, every window and their matching curtains, the faded light green rug placed on the squeaky floor boards, every cob web and every occasional butterfly that fluttered in and out. It was strange, knowing so much about you both repelled me and attracted me to you, in a way unexplainable. There had to be more to you. There had to be a reason you loved to watch the news over and over again, and a reason you didn't like sugar in your coffee and a reason you turned up at my door that summer afternoon. A reason for my outrageous feelings. I remember how the warm air played with the stray bits of your light brown hair and how your eyebrows raised as you smiled, resembling the way shoulders shrug. They say that sometimes you can actually feel your heart breaking. Well, when our eyes met, mine seemed to break in half and fix itself perfectly, simultaneously. Emotions in slow motion, yet still all to fast to understand.  I had to keep it together as it fell apart. I had to forgive myself for letting myself love you, whatever 'love' was.  

I wondered, earlier that morning, when I walked past the nearby florist store, what life and death was. What the terms 'life' and 'death' actually meant. How all those beautiful flowers were cut just as they were at their bloom; killed when they were most beautiful. I thought perhaps this might be the same for humans, but then shoved the thought of such demanding topics into a little steel chest in the back of my brain, conveniently placed deep under the part where all the happy thoughts are filed in neat metal cabinets. I felt as though I was drowning in hopelessness, as though I was enclosed in some sort of night club, surrounded with smiling faces and drunken comments and 'woooo's and lofty eyes, as though the frivolous party atmosphere was consuming every inch of my sanity. I wished so bad I could be as absent minded as them. I wished I didn't have the overwhelming need to find more. There had to be more. More than alcohol, and straightened hair, and *** and money, more than education and marriage, more than tanned skin, more than music, more than fake 'hello's and the meaningless exchange of numbers between two strangers. One thing, though, that I would often consider was how strangers were the most beautiful of things. They are like little mysterious secrets. Strangers could be whatever you wanted them to be. One could fall in love with a stranger. The ideas and fantasies are so dreadfully captivating, that one can get so easily attached. Attached to something, someone, who doesn't actually exist. These bedazzled ideas that one constructs, designs and creates around these unknown people is so quickly broken as one gets to know them. I never wanted to get to know anyone after getting to know you. I decided that afternoon that I'd rather love strangers, I'd rather invest myself in silly, pretentious ideas of people, than loving actual, real people. Getting to know someone is just as much exciting as it is suspenseful and disappointing, it's awful because the more you know; the less there is to know, and you keep learning and learning until one day, simply, there seems nothing left to learn. You come to a solid wall when you were expecting a big bright door.
This is just me fooling around at 3 am.
julia denham Jul 2013
take me somewhere nice
we'll drink lemonade and iced tea
take me where the flowers grow and where you still love me

take me somewhere beautiful
ill wear something suitable
take me where the sky is blue and where we're still youthful

take me somewhere slightly suspicious
kiss me softly but make it viscous
darling, take me where they say the oxygen is delicious  

take me back.
julia denham Apr 2013
The mirror in the bathroom, above the basin
Told me he was only admired
For his jewelled frame
And only required
Because he could reflect shame
Upon those who looked at him
finding themselves inadequate
Critisisng every feature, every limb
He saw them searching desparately
For themselves in his glass
they'd come close and whispher things
And to themselves, he could see them ask
"Why?" For he saw their mood swings,
Their lashes of confidence
"You can do this." They'd sometimes say
He saw them loving their appearance
From time to time, depending on the day
He saw them splash their faces
And fix their hair into neat buns
Trying to cover up the traces
Of rubbed red puffy eyes and tired lungs
The mirror in the bathroom, above the basin
Told me he saw people confronted
With the reality of who they are,
But to accept this - they were reluctant
Sometimes they stayed far
Away from his reflections
These days he was lonely and
observed them detest their "imperfections"
While washing their hands
The mirror in the bathroom, above the basin
Told me
He saw people in their most honest forms.
julia denham Apr 2013
I think sometimes,
one thinks they left
First, but in fact got left behind
Ones Significant other has crept
Ahead, and won the race;
Of who cares less
"You've been replaced"
Your bruised mind says
julia denham Jun 2013
In need of escape, they fled for the ocean floor
he persuaded her, "I need you, take my hand"
They drew the curtains and locked the door
Discarded the rusty key on the rough sand

They waded through the forceful waves
That pushed them out, then pulled them in
And enrolled themselves as Queen Ocean's slaves
Commanded helplessly by her recurring din

Then strolling down the ocean bed
An imaginary staircase to an alter
With an imaginary priest where they would be wed
He knew her love for him would never falter

And that's how he knew he'd won
Even though he'd lost himself in the water
Because he had her now, the deed was done
All the while the waves just whispered; "love is manslaughter"
julia denham Jul 2013
you lay on the sofa,
mummified in your grandma's knitted blanket,
thinking awfully slowly
about things,
so slowly.

"yet again, i am abandoned, humanity has let me down" you said,

see, you and i
are the same (person), yet awfully different
we both felt lowly
of ourselves,
so lowly.

and i said, "you and i are humanity, too."

— The End —