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Ileana Amara May 2020
what I used to love,
but now wince at the mere sound,
mere sight, and mere thought of it.

IA
Ileana Amara May 2020
my nails dug through my skin,
clutching humanity,
saving myself from scarcity,
the deeper, the better and I started bleeding.

put on a sleek black dress,
in romanticized grief, I don't long to impress,
black is death, black is elegance,
I long to feel solace and trance.

might I be visiting a dead loved one,
yet my own name was etched on the tombstone,
my soul weeps for what a river nor ocean
of human tears could have poured out and done.

IA
Ileana Amara May 2020
it is a curse to remember,
and feel nostalgic
of a forgotten era,
when memories and reality
are complete opposites.

IA
Ileana Amara May 2020
love is a battlefield,
where our hearts are the casualties,
and uncertainty is where
our hopes are tied into.

IA
Ileana Amara May 2020
you
all it took was one song
for the ground to open up
and swallow me viciously
into a memory lane of love.

IA
Ileana Amara May 2020
my heart weighs
with both heaviness and emptiness,
trying to beat to its regular rhythm,
to find clarity and reason

filled with the urge to write,
catalyzed by the chaos of emotion,
I lay sleepless with my thoughts,
in an attempt to fill in the silent voids.

IA
Ileana Amara May 2020
people possess three things in life:
a shield, a heart, and a dagger

a shield for the logic,
a heart for the soul,
a dagger forged by the strength of emotion,
unbeknownst to many about its origin.

people used these three things,
a dagger to protect oneself from this cruel world,
a heart to beat its rhythm of existence,
and a shield to ward off the weapon from wounding and distorting a heart.

why do we need a dagger?
it takes two to tango,
it takes chaos to begin chaos.

people wander relentlessly,
breathing, and existing and loving,
until a dagger pierces through,
leaving an open wound,
and a weapon sharpened.

little do we know,
the closer the proximity,
the more ideal love gets,
the lesser we see it coming,
the lesser we forget,
a shield is used to protect a soft, beating creature.

from an open wound,
and sharp weapon,
the cycle of chaos arise,
few people heal,
multifolds stab another heart,
"perhaps there will always be another heart to break."

one polished its shield very well;
the logic and knowledge
choked a heart to non-existence,
there was nothing left to stab,
there was nothing left to feel.

one stood with a wooden shield,
a state of balance within,
of calm and chaos and fear
to wound and lose its heart,
and be forced to survive with a dagger.

the pandemic goes on,
perhaps only until the daggers cease to exist,
soft creatures cannot battle with a heartless one,
it can only tame a while, until it becomes distorted and heartless too.

the pandemic weakens
when a wounded heart heals,
not because of the shield,
not because of time itself,
but because it's a wonder: some hearts can never be irreparably broken.

IA
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