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Do not consider this an extension of myself...

This particular mode of communication is nothing more then a carrier pigeon to me.
Don't expect my immediate or direct attention if we're not face to face... You won't be getting it.
Sometimes I wish I could

Pull the child who lives inside of me

Out,

Dress her wounds

Kiss her bruises

And embrace her in my arms

So,

She knows that one day

She will be

Loved
 Jul 2017 Nadia DeLevea
medha
you and i
we'll move on
and forget all of this.

and maybe we'll even
find whatever it was that
we were looking for elsewhere.

and perhaps
we'll understand
why it ended the way it did.

but what we had
was precious and it'll
always exist somewhere.

in dying leaves and
the silences we shared
and maybe, the moon too.
Friction
Isn’t fiction
It’s great
Things grate
I surmise
To hydrolyze,
A basic strife,
Gives us life.
What seems mystical
Is really chemical.
To life!
Look in the mirror
There's something alluring about imperfections
You find that little face of yours amusing
Madly looking at attributes that don't matter
While your disturbed mind suffers
restlessness, illusions and incoherence;

Look in the mirror
Every wrinkle, every little crease is an untold story
that could astonish
anyone who's willing to get close enough,
slide deep enough
Dedicate a millisecond to observe
the beauty behind the screen
Beauty non-volatile
 Jul 2017 Nadia DeLevea
Xyns
I just need an escape.

A way out of this place.

I'm in a bad mental space.
The heavens mourned
   in my stead love.

They railed and rent
   themselves through,
   in the deep knell of the thunder,
   and the flashing light of the lightning
   as it struck in all its fiery promise.

The gods themselves
   wept my tears, my love.

Rivers upon rivers
  from those fickle immortals,
  for where they are,
  they were moved.

Because I mourned you
   my love,
I mourned you.
I mourned you,
  so deep.

But I was too far
  from my eyes to weep.
Cut off from my arms
  that I could not tear my
  clothes.
Closed off from my throat
  so the world would never
  hear the banshee in my wail.

For as my body mourned,
My soul sought you.
It reached out ,
  to Hades Realms
  if that was where you went.

It asked
   why would you leave us here?
   this body of mine and
   it's soul.

So I could not weep
   and I could not wail.

And so the heavens,
   they mourned for me.
Erebus The Greek underworld, in mythology, is an otherworld where souls go after death, and is the original Greek idea of afterlife. At the moment of death the soul is separated from the corpse, taking on the shape of the former person, and is transported to the entrance of the Underworld. It is not Hell but the afterlife.

Rest well, you were loved. written 13/7/2017 on your funeral
 Jul 2017 Nadia DeLevea
dan d
Skin
 Jul 2017 Nadia DeLevea
dan d
the words they wrap around you
the lies
they weave
I believe
the words they wrap around me
with lies
they weave reality

the words they wrap around me
the lies
they weave
you believe
the words they wrap around you
with lies
they weave reality

we seek the edge
it separates me
and you
let the blade cleave
skin from flesh
we bleed humanity

we seek the edge
it guides me
and you
together anew
let the blade cleave
skin to flesh
surface to depth
we breathe humanity

we found the edge
and it cut me
and you
and the blood we spilled...
deep enough to drown in
As the first drop fell on me
I looked up at the black canvas
gathering and rumbling ominously.

But there was supposed to be another
not far
but right over my head
to defend me against the weather
pattering insane
between me and the rain.

Did I by any chance
leave my umbrella here, sir?

I ran to the shopkeeper.

We all suffer this predicament
was his smiling statement
losing grip over our mind
letting things be left behind

and then came the mischievous addendum
as if my trouble had inspired his mood

go for good
once you let them go
woman and umbrella

they never again show.
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