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Sia Jane Jan 2016
There is no encore only a final curtain

For my former self, June 23rd 2015

Recently, I've been feeling this wave of nostalgia
As the rain caresses my skin and the wind howls past my ears
Every time I walk the streets to university,
Or watching the squirrels play around
The oak tree in the morning...

It feels like only yesterday.

And I count my blessings,
And I know how lucky I am to be alive.
And I look at a picture in this photo album of a younger me,
As I fake a smile to hide my pain.

I will never forget my former self.

And in my dreams, I am dying
I wake up screaming and shivering
With no one beside me, and when I close
My eyes again, there I am...
Stood on the bridge, drunk on starvation

Counting down from five to jump.

© Sia Jane
See Amiri Baraka "Preface to a twenty volume suicide note"
An old write from the summer last year, 2015
  Jan 2016 Sia Jane
Little Bear
Be soft.
Don't let the world make you hard.
Don't let the pain make you hate.
Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness.
Take pride that, even though the rest of the world may disagree,
you still believe it to be a beautiful place.
Not my quote, I believe it was written by either Iain Thomas or Kurt Vonnegut. I wish I had thought of something so wonderful myself :o)
  Jan 2016 Sia Jane
Timothy Ward
the sun will
kiss the earth
each day
and soon
these dashing lines
of youth
hard charcoal, pen and ink
dancing, arousing
the parchment
shall also fade
portraits ought to
be lived
not
preserved
This began as an exercise in Architecture Design class. We each had to do a self portrait and design a space for ourselves for the rest of our life! One space! Very introspective n mind altering exercise!
  Jan 2016 Sia Jane
Nat Lipstadt
the surprisingly sweetest clementine

amidst the marble and stone pillars
of the museum's fifth avenue grand hall,
a woman grows faint and woozy,
and the Egyptian artifacts five thousand years old,
re-proved as reusable, sustainable,
as leaning-against-posts
for the dizzy

the boyfriend well familiar
with dehydration side effects,
from pocket pulls a natural pill of
a sweet clementine,
restoring the well
to the good

she marvels at
how came I
to place a survival kit in my
coat pocket?

smiling, he confesses
his fondness for
providing
for all her needs,
known and unknown

even carries an inventory,
with back ups to back ups,
assorted sundries,
he calls it,
proving his point too well,
reaching into the other
pocket and offering
yet another,
a second helping
for his,
oh my darling,
sweetest clementine

she, undecided,
laugh or cry,
both equally attractive amazement solutions,
says only:

I love you for reasons,
known and unknown,
now,
take me home
for reasons
now known,
and others,
as of yet,
most happily,


unknown
a  true story.

P.S. he hates carrying anything
Sia Jane Jan 2016
Only yesterday, you stood before me.
You watched me a while,
           you saved me last night you say.
We begin talking about the thunderstorms
you saved me last night you say,
          you’re repeating yourself again.
That was yesterday I say,
but you keep saying you saved me last night
           studying me intently your eyes fill;
a storm drain overflowing with rain,
the tidal wave in your stomach kept rising;
            I would have drowned without you there-
you’d think I was the equivalent of coming
up for air.
           You’re more than the oxygen I breathe
you say, coming closer to me.
You’re my sun.
            I want to tell you I’m afraid of my
darkness.
But I can’t say it out loud to you.
You see dearest, I can’t take my limbs apart like you
            I’ve forgotten how to sew myself
back together.
All my emotions, are held
in a nest between rib bones; rib bones broken
            in the fight endured trying to get
the world to love me. Yours, is a heart awaiting
for the blooming of flowers, which follow a winter
           of freezing now pining to thaw.
Tears surge down your cheeks –
they’re forming pools of salt water
           between your *******.
Only yesterday, you stood before me.
You taught me to dance, your elegant body
           telling stories.
Night was drawing closer, and out the window
I can see another storm is approaching.
           I was a child born in a thunderstorm,
you say. The first night we met, you told me
you are the eye of all my storms. The calm centre
            keeping me grounded. You saved me
last night
you say again.
No baby I say, you save yourself every time.
You’re not the monster
           you think yourself to be.


© Sia Jane
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