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Ileana Amara May 2020
we live in a phase to be written down in history,
where people needed humanity;
the eyes to see,
the ears to listen,
the mind to think,
the lips to encourage,
the hand to kindly give,
and the heart to burst with love.
where people take lesser things for granted;
a soul tap with nature,
a coffee with a good friend,
an affection from a loved one,
a moment that easily passes by if not lived.

bittersweet neoteric epiphanies,
gliding through my skin like a cold sheet of memories,
as fond as it is for my isolated soul,
they felt so new, so raw, that I hope on the aftermath
pride and prejudice steps aside for humanity to make us whole.

IA
For BLT's word of the day challenge: Neoteric.
  May 2020 Ileana Amara
Zoë
Winterbreeze rippling through my clothes
Loud music in my ears
Cold hands, warm heart
I am falling apart

Streetlamps guiding my way
No place where I could stay
Every turn I take
With every step I break
Tears filling my eyes
Guess thats what they mean with paying the price
I never meant to hurt you
Didn't know what else I could do

Just let me walk in silence
Build my fence
Be tough, be brave
that's what I told myself

The night is swallowing me
With all its darkness and beauty
Take me with you
Isn't that what lovers do?
  May 2020 Ileana Amara
mary liles
my heart aches.
what could have been?
memories flood.
who would I be?
tears fall.
why did I go?
hiraeth: a homesickness for a home that you cannot return to; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past
Ileana Amara May 2020
there is no good in goodbyes,
nor the rendition of the universe in who comes and goes,
when the lights have dimmed and I close my eyes,
I venture a seemingly lonely path when the cold wind blows,
there are no memories easily disposed,
from a soul who made me love my own,
for whom now may be the subject of my prose.
we savored the view of the sunrise,
and as the sun sets to dripping polychromatic skies,
I realized my soul was tethered with yours,
filled with a beautiful, dangerous, and impeccable force,
when words so widely known fail to express,
music and poetry were our language,
philosophizing life, death and even happiness
we begin to venture the chaos of our minds like a sage.
when the old wounds are pressed down to reopen,
and apologies begin to slice like a knife,
a sweet misery for an aching soul to resort to a pen,
weeping for time to heal what reason cannot.

the sunset is over, and as the darkness engulf us
I quietly cry and smile, our hands untwining
with such understanding that maybe this too, would pass
but how do we know when goodbyes become a new beginning?

IA
Ileana Amara May 2020
some strings are cut
when there are no rational ends
to untie the knot.

IA
Ileana Amara May 2020
never spit and dance
on the graveyard of a sheep,
who knows if it is an old clothing
of a wolf on watch.

IA
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