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Ileana Amara Jun 2020
memories are what we often create,
what we seldom forget,
and what we desire to relive.

yet time and time again, they are dangerous things;
we memorize each touch and every ending,
and we still find an edge that cuts.

IA
Ileana Amara Jun 2020
humans are molded with two ears
to hear a story's two sides, to judge without fears
to cut another for the sake of bigotry and injustice;
perhaps to hell do they reside, a conscience without peace.

IA
Ileana Amara Jun 2020
beneath all the stillness,
is an underlying ache and madness.

IA
  Jun 2020 Ileana Amara
Mona
find your inner peace
part ways with your inner beaat
the demons that come to feast

seek closure with the pleasure of pain
you deserve love like plants deserve rain
or you'll burn alive like oxygen to a flame

thoughts that occupy your mind
don't resist or judge, stay aligned
peace is not a destination, forever grind
a metaphysical space, a frequency your mind transcends to.
Ileana Amara Jun 2020
life is paradoxically beautiful and cruel,
but happiness and discontentment is just a mental duel,
there are so many reasons to be happy
despite having landed rock bottom,
despite regrets,
despite pain,
despite loss,
despite grief,
despite hell.

life's too short to let your demons dance your own stage,
to let pain and death tremble you as your misery's wage,
life won't ever be out to get you, so smile at that,
you're not born in demand to have your whole life mapped;
write, compose, maybe shout what you feel,
paint art in abstractions, in lines with zeal,
listen to the kind of music that would wrap your soul safe & sound
laugh at the misery, because as tough as it is, you can't be dragged down.

IA
  Jun 2020 Ileana Amara
Poetria
Our love was nothing
more than faded letters
kept in a drawer,
eating dust to survive.
We pretended it died
out of famine
as we discreetly moved on
free of guilt.


But...


I still have the scars
hidden under my sleeves;
begging for attention,
like a kid in the aisle
of a candy store,
eyeing a bottle of gummy bears
and a pack of Reeses.


What is there to miss?


I don't even know
the curve of your smile
when you said a cryptic 'hi'
almost a month ago.
When you pulled me close-
but not too close
because you were afraid of love
more than losing it.


Our hands
weren't made
to touch;
a curve and an asymptote
always r e a c h i n g,
a depressed biology
of 'crown shyness'
moving from trees
to human fingertips.


And so i
planned to leave...


only to see
your addio note
and spare keys
sitting comfortably
on the breakfast table,
having a pep talk
with a cup of cold coffee
and a stale egg omelette.


You won
in our race
to goodbye.
Published at AllPoetry.com
Username: Poetria
Ileana Amara Jun 2020
scars do bleed into wounds again,
even if they have clotted,
when they are scratched in itch and immense pain.

IA
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