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Ileana Amara Aug 29
sometimes i still mourn & long
for the language we made for ourselves
but can no longer be spoken.

sincerely, ileana.
08.29.22.| they say lovers are like inventors; they create a world & language of their own — one that is both beautifully & painfully irreplaceable.
Ileana Amara May 23
i tried to say goodbye to my grief,
the thing that has made a home
inside of me;
the mother of my craft,
the suffering i cherish.

but now i know,
she is a tenant of permanence,
inside me, she is a remnant
of both love and memory.

sincerely, ileana.
05.24.22.| more than half a year since i last wrote something, more than half a year since i wallowed in the depths of my grief. this time, i'd like to write again — not just of grief, but of love and life and people.
Ileana Amara Nov 2021
no matter how much
or whatever i use or do
to gloss over this restless grief,
all i could feel is this lump in my throat,
the simultaneous heaviness and emptiness,
and my crippled being hopelessly yearning
for your warm embrace as my grieving heart's rest.

IA
11.24.21.| they say grief is an indelible presence juxtaposed with the growing collection of things, but somewhere along those things, something feels missing; like a gaping hole in your heart longing for the things that will never be the same again.

more than a month has passed & some days, i still wish losing a loved one is just a nightmare i have yet to wake up from but i am wide awake, breathing alive but it's a slow death inside. i might get back to writing before this year ends, perhaps in attempt to save my life.
Ileana Amara Oct 2021
get me a bottle of romanticism;
perhaps it's the only drink
that i'd like to get drunk of
for it is tougher to be sober
in this world that seems
to be running out of love.

IA
11.01.21.| what are the consequences if i choose to see everything & everyone only in the lens of love? could i conquer it all like they say love conquers all?

romanticism feels like a life support to my soul lately. these are just indeed, some random scribbles of my restless mind.
Ileana Amara Oct 2021
how must i feel when the older i get,
"life is a suffering," is a belief harder to forget,
is this because i've looked in the eyes of death
and found such restful freedom
yet to turn everything i was, i am, and will be
into a mosaic, a picturesque, a fading silhouette.

IA
11.01.21.| few weeks ago i was deeply in love with life, maybe i still am but this grief is making its own home inside me; the paradoxical heaviness & emptiness existing simultaneously that i think of death as a restful solace.
Ileana Amara Oct 2021
i long to find solace; a resting place,
nothing is heavier than the wishes i have
to have you back here,
to have one last hug,
to know that losing you is just a nightmare
i have yet to wake up from by tomorrow.

it weighs heavy in my soul
to bleed in restless poetries;
and like i am - hopeless & falling into pieces,
this heaviness inside keeps digging an empty hole.

IA
11.01.21.| i also wrote this on the 22nd of october, but was unable to publish it perhaps because of hello poetry's system glitch since i have been inactive too for quite some time.
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