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Angela Alegna Jun 2015
I'm waiting for you to tread on my heart like a horse galloping on freshly fallen snow
Beneath that bed of snow is the encased hardened shell of ice that you will form from my heart
This is worse than a ticking time bomb
Or the sight of the last grains of salt falling from an hour glass
Because at least with those, you can see the dangers
You know that when the bomb explodes you will be wrecked, your body will be mangled, your home will be uprooted
Once the hour glass is half empty your time will have ended, your results will be half-assed showing that it's too late, your efforts were fruitless
But with you as you tread on my ice shell of a heart, I do not know what will happen when you finally pierce through
I do not know if the rapture will cause an earthquake beginning from my chest and spreading to my toe and finger tips
I do not know if I will lose the ability to breath seeing as the heart and lungs only live momentarily without each other
I do not know if you will break me and break me and break me as all of the others have done with the magnanimity and force of a thousand bombs all being counted to their last second by a thousand hour glasses
I do not know if your love will penetrate painfully through me like a horse walking on a fresh bed of snow
Only to find holes and holes blanketed with snow to fall into
And disappear.
Angela Alegna Jun 2015
My heart is light
Yet the corners and grooves of its surface are being pulled
And the heaviness is weighing me down
To release
To remove the chains and locks that connected me to you
You will be like a ship far from its harbor to me
I am no longer harboring feelings of sadness or anger, memories, tears, walls and your scent.
That's just it, I am no longer harboring any part of you.
I am an ocean
A deep wide ocean who's waters don't need to be calmed,
Who's engulfing spirit will never need your buoy
For so long I longed for the touch of my waves to your sand
Until I realized, why does the ocean NEED the sand?
To think of the greatness of ocean waters uncontrolled by the hindrance that is the sand, is to bestow the waters of their full potential
To bring grainy feelings into what was once clear.
To avoid the bodies of drowning children, soda-canned-suffocated sea gulls, oil spilling tanks,
because you see,
all of these came from the sand.
And before the sand,
How the Ocean lived with peace because of its deep, wide, engulfing spirit
Angela Alegna Jun 2015
The tenderness as they described it is circumnavigating more than the ******* and the roundness of my protruding *******
Perhaps by tenderness of the breast, what they really mean is tenderness of the soul and the emotions one hurriedly tucks under the crevices of their *****
If one imagines how ******* are anything but tender, with their ferocity of nurturing life and their wholly encompassing nature to weigh and weigh and weigh
Weight carried by a mother,
Shed off by her daughter,
Caressed by the one she lies with in the crevice of her soul and the gap between twin XL bunk beds and walls full of picture of people who no longer weigh her down
It's the feeling of nostalgia and nostalgia feeling this tenderness growing from one's *******.
Growth of the ***** of life as a life imagined is destroyed, nullified, kaput.
But most of all she feels nostalgia.
Nostalgia for the people whose tenderness she felt,
Nostalgia yes for her brother and grandmother cloaked in love around her neck like crystals from an iridescent silver clasp
Angela Alegna Feb 2015
I've forgotten how to feel sadness and I thank God
I've forgotten the tremors you made me feel
And the reverberations of your forced body into mine
I've forgotten my mother's glazed eyes when I told her the three unspeakable words: "I was *****"
It all seems like a memory now
Yet I can't hear or taste or read the word "****"
They say language breaks down barriers
And in this case it is the barrier to the flood of emotions that stay tightly coiled in a black box in the base of my body
I couldn't tell you whether it's floating along my blood stream
Or scraping the insides of my uvula
All I know is that when this language is learned,
I think I will break.
But then again I have God. And I am okay again.
I can face the day again.
The day God leads me to the steps of the Tower of Babel and I reach the highest point of my gloom
Let's pray I'll be able to bear it.
  Oct 2014 Angela Alegna
Lets pretend,
we're still friends.

Lets pretend,
you don't avoid my eye.

Lets pretend,
When you saw me,
you didn't look to your left,
tease your hair
and stare behind you as I went passed.

Lets pretend
When you saw me doing work,
you didn't mutter 'fa**et' under your breath.

lets pretend,
when I asked where you were going,
you didn't hear me.

Lets pretend,
I don't see that look of denial
every time I speak

Lets pretend,
everything is fine.

Lets pretend
we're still friends

some conversations aren't supposed to happen, friends come and go
Angela Alegna Aug 2014
This is the story of a Foolish Fledgling

I feel the silent vibration of pain and remorse tracing my ribs to my navel and swooping to encompass the silence that lingers over my mouth
This emptiness that I am feeling was because you felt grief
Because at one point I remember you and I
Well, we were inseparable, we were one
How did we let this come so far?
Or rather how did I let the cage that held our two harmoniously beating hearts shatter and break, letting the birds of rage and anger and animosity and fear and anger and anger and anger, free?
But I wouldn't say they were free because the heavy locks that weigh down my heart now,  show me that perhaps the birds are cascading down, so close to death
And that is why I am silent
Because we came this close to losing each other
This close to killing the love we once had for each other
The love I still have for you now
And for so long I was convinced that you no longer cared for me
I felt you no longer could see the greatness you had once seen in me
If I flew, you would always find error in how close I flew to the sun
Always chastising me and warning that the sun would burn me
Yet to me the sun is what felt good, what made me feel beautiful
For the sun, unlike you, illuminated my feathers and helped me see the strength in my wings
But as I fell, I fell far away from you.
Today you gave up and said you were ready to push me away
And only provide me with the seeds that would nourish my weak body
When all I yearned for was your embrace once again in the nest of your heart that I had called home.
As I fell, it was only until then, when you were no longer willing to catch me, that I realized that you had been there all this time *ready
to catch me
Ready to embrace me into your nest but *I
had pushed you away
I flew to the sun and you tried you tried you tried
To call your fledgling back into your arms
And foolishly I flew directly towards the sun who scorched my wings and only led me further away from you
And as I sit here close to the bottom of the pit
With wings broken
Heart recoiled from yours
I long once again for the nest that was your heart.
I long for me when I was easy and simple and only fed from the worms that you gave me
When I did not go out into the world to search for my own
Foolishly, oh so foolishly.
As I crawl back towards the cage
The cage that locked in our hearts together
Away from the world and its temptations, away from the scorching sun,
I pray that my minor pecks at your nest do not go unanswered
For I am sorry I am sorry I am sorry
For there is no love like the one I once knew before I broke this cage
I long to be nestled in your love.
I'm sorry Mom
Angela Alegna Jul 2014
The reflection that looks back at me isn't mine
I see a girl with wiry black hair
It's not mine, I bought it at a weave shop.
The lines that bend around my hips and under my stomach, well they're not mine, they didn't belong to me two or three years ago when things were safe and food wasn't made for comfort.
I see heavy bags anchoring fatigue and lost nights of restless searching for connection and dependence lining my eyes much like the kohl that circles my eyelashes. Well those I got from the beauty store and in the former situation, the LACK of the beauty store.
I hide myself in makeup as I search for attention. The attention of the personified "it" girl.
The reflection I see is of the wanna be "it" girl.
Instead the only thing that's mine, is my imperfect perfectness, or so I have failed to see it.
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