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dania Dec 2012
days i have delayed
i've been under the shade
    for i cannot bear to speak
                                 to you.

ambiguous blots of ink
forming dangerous thoughts to think-
    will surely be reason for death
                                        for me.

who am i again(?)
just a girl with a pen-
    and words that can only cushion my fall
                                                            my crash.

conspiracy, i cause
propaganda, they pose
                                               posters, they stick
                                                                                and poems, i smack

find me in the corner
sipping my bitter capp
dreaming of paper
and ink
and y
         o
            u
dania Dec 2012
hold my hand,
and pull me tight.

for i am too tired to speak;
tonight.

trip me up,
and make me laugh.

for i am too sad to cry;
tonight.

pour me a glass of juice,
and pretend it's wine.

for i am too sick to get drunk;
tonight.

sing to me a lovers' song,
and ask me to dance.

for i am out of ideas;
tonight.

bake me a cake,
and sprinkle some love.

for i am craving lots;
tonight.

make me a bracelet,
of old charms and beads.

for i am in need of luck;
tonight.

tuck me in bed,
and read me a story.

for i will be restless;
tonight.

dim the light,
and keep the door open.

for i might awake with a fright;
tonight.

open your letter,
and read it slow.

for i cannot say these words;
tonight.

Honey,
You were the One.
A savior of sorts.
I cannot thank you.
I cannot love you any more than I do.
Be brave, if not for me, for you.
Take care of yourself, as I know you will.
Signed,
Your Beloved.


promise me you won't cry,
and promise me you'll make it.

for i am dead;
tonight.
feeling inspired; triggered.
dania Dec 2012
this morning you smiled at me
and
asked how i was doing

i shrugged, "i'm doing pretty good."
and
you gave me a grin

"it's been a while, hasn't it?"
and
"yeah. yeah, it has been."

there's a silence so you laugh
and
i'm relieved you broke it

"it's really not the same anymore,"
and
you sigh because it's true

this isn't how we planned things
and
this isn't what we wanted

but it's okay, we'll fix it
and
it'll be good as new

except
(not really.)
because,

i am mesmerized by your sadness
and
held prisoner by your eyes

tip-toeing around our empty conversations
and
begrudgingly avoiding the obvious truth

you always flirt, make small talk
and
it's hard keeping my distance

i wish you would quit it
and
yet i pray you don't

in my mind you're a blur
and
it's coming at me too fast

give me mercy for i'm weak
and
shaken by your every move

she and i are petty friends
and
you and i are real

let me make this nice, clear
and
simple for you to understand

i can't think of you that way
and
i never did or will

because i have my solid reasons
and
you quite clearly have your's

which is why i am asking
and
begging to know your motives

intentions

behind
what
you
do
to
me
vent poem
dania Dec 2012
prickly vibes climb the ceiling
of the attic you weep
in,
      the comforts of your worn-out bed;
                                                        stained blood-red.

it's awfully cold
for a typically sluggish winter
day-,
             by-day you still don't learn;
                                                  of no return.

staring at the mirror you see
it is not sadness you suffer from
but,
        a full-blown catastrophe;
                                         permanent detainee.

you sob for weeks but no-one hears
the screams dance off walls and doors
begging,
             for mercy or an escape;
                                          man-in-cape.

y­ou've done nothing but lead
a dull life and now you wait
distressed,
            with empty hopes for a rescue;
                                                     past overdue.

it's hard to say what went wrong
and easier to say what went right
despite,
            you dying and all;
                                  *poor soul.
moral of this: life is short, you gotta live it long.
dania Oct 2012
Today,
Did not go well.
Wasn't swell.

Today,
I cried a tear.
No cheer.

Today,
I crossed a few,
Wronged two.

Today,
I wanted to die,
No lie.

And, today,
I sat on the pavement.
Skin and bones.

I dreamed of galaxies, far far away.
Stars, whichever way you sway.

I wished I was thin enough to fly like paper,
Rise like hope.

Pale as snow,
Pure as gold.

Which direction would the breeze take me?
What have I done to make them hate me?


Maybe I'll end up in heaven,
Maybe count to fifty-seven.

I could end up at a lion's feast,
Or where the sun sets east.

I'm tired now,
But ready as ever.

I'll lay on the floor,
Never sever.

The quiet will consume me,
The silence will speak.

I will dream of you,
And oceans blue,
Forget myself,

"Adieu."
dania Sep 2012
House of cards,
Little space.

"Draw the curtains,"
Happy place.

On the swings,
Gentle push.

"Touch the sky!"
Fleeting whoosh.

Running some errands,
Busy afternoon.

Grocery store music,
Catchy tune.

Quiet back alley,
Stabbing knife.

Laying on pavement,
Doubting life.

Cold storm strikes,
Washing away.

Sigh after sigh,
Feelings betray.

Dreary minutes pass,
Eyes blear.

Urge to cry,
Prisoner tear.

Ghostly vibe pulsates,
Hopes high.

One last breath,
Say goodbye.
dania Aug 2012
Woke up this morning with an itch to write,
To put pen to paper,
To put height to flight.

Broken words for the good mans' soul,
I write to feel happy,
I write to feel whole.

Like an anxious athlete on a trendy diet,
I weigh-in to reflect.
I weigh-in to free an internal quiet.

Similar to an artist using brushes and paints,
I draw a paradise with fire,
I draw a hell with saints.

Feelings twist my fingers and toes,
Force me to write of worries,
Force me to write about woes.

These words are like screams,
They are my pain,
They are my extremes.

To think I only write of distress is utterly depressing,
There is also beauty in the world,
There is a myriad of issues far more pressing.

Yet given the chance I would write my worries away,
Save me another hour,
Save me another day.

I would wish for an eternity of bliss,
For everlasting love,
For time's abyss.

I could write about cities,
Filled with people and cars,
Filled with ruins and pities.

I'll sew you a quilt of all my fears,
Hoping no one realizes,
Hoping no one hears.

With this quilt I'd make my bed,
Rest on it with fluttery thoughts,
Rest on it with a heavy head.

And on it I'd cuddle with the quilt,
Wish away all the bad,
Wish away all the guilt.

For I know I could write for a hundred years straight,
Still have those debts,
Still have a tarnished slate.
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