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Ileana Amara Aug 2020
the substance of past runs down through my scars
slicing with regrets, grief and loss;
bleeding with memories hooked on distant stars,
beautiful but faraway, meant to burn, and over time, get lost.

IA
Ileana Amara Aug 2020
poem lines run through my head;
unstructured, barely coherent, contemplative,
they were the words & thoughts left unsaid
this heart bleeds wasted poetries like a thriving captive.

IA
Ileana Amara Aug 2020
the daggers pierced through,
when i thought i had an armor on;
i barely felt the stinging pain,
i barely bled before my eyes,

i carried on until i looked at the mirror;
i forgot how the sharp tip should have felt,
it pierced through my own flesh, armor-less.

IA
Ileana Amara Jul 2020
idealism is a fraud;

angels don't cut off demons' horns
nor do they make them do so;

trust is built for decades,
it cannot be rebuilt in a month
after its destruction;

sometimes worn out apologies
are slapped band-aids onto wounds;

love is not a combat of logic and emotion,
whoever wins makes the other go;

hearts don't stay hearts,
they turn into things
when their own beats begin to lie;

we live in utopian daydreams,
with only a few, broken but breathing souls
seeing through the seams.

IA
Ileana Amara Jul 2020
they say that to love someone in a lifetime,
you have to attend a thousand funerals
of people who they used to be.

i stood before yours in disbelief,
as you stood before mine;
pale, cold, grasping for life.

IA
Inspired by Priebe's words.
Ileana Amara Jul 2020
she was a dreamer,
who spends her days scribbling
her thoughts and dreams onto paper,
only to tear off the page,
folded onto a paper airplane,
blown with her passionate soul
towards a cosmic travel.

IA
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