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  Mar 2018 Isla
Dean Eastmond
I still find myself
feeling your skin
in the spaces between
bed-sheet creases

and if
missing you is like
swerving into
oncoming traffic,
then tonight
I’m sleeping
in the road.
  Mar 2018 Isla
lib
you
you are the one
living in the back of my head
and in my heart
within me

you are the one
i think of when it gets dark
and when i'm alone,
it's you i crave

you are the one
and no matter what i do,
at the end of the day,
it's you
no, you're not perfect, but at least you don't pretend to be
  Mar 2018 Isla
lib
you are my favorite song
Isla Mar 2018
Backspace          
Remove              
Cut out              
Obliterate
Expun
Cancel                
Omit                  
Efface
Demolish
Terminate
Revoke          
Eradicate
Blot out
Negate
Extinguish
Undo
Disengage
Erase
Abridge
Repudiate
Void
Retract
Abrogate
What is our purpose here, other than to regret things we cannot delete?
Consumed by guilt is no way to live, but it is the only way I know.
  Mar 2018 Isla
poems in the clouds
Go ahead
hold me a little longer
than usual.
You say to me,
without using any
words at all,
"it should have been me,
its still me."
Like i don't already see
those sky blue eyes
every time i close my own.
Because we're still holding
on to god knows what.
Because it is you
and it will always be you.
Isla Mar 2018
who knew
that emptiness
could have such
poisonous potency
Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty.
- Mother Teresa
Isla Mar 2018
Won’t you lie here with me? Can’t we just let the world slip away?
Or would it hurt you too much to let anyone near your heart? Even if that someone is me?
Won’t you say anything at all? Even if it’s not what I want to hear? I’d rather have harsh truths than kind lies.
And I know you will not lie. You will not be kind.
Your face is stoic, it makes me want to cry.
Do you not feel anything? Does anything break through the surface of your skepticism? Though I try and try to see past your unrelenting negativity you continue to surprise me with your coldness. How do you stay so cold?
The silence you project is screaming, pounding in my ears and everything in me burns for the affection you refuse to give.
Why do you pretend I’m not even here? I want a way out, but being alone terrifies me more than you do. Terrifies me more than the silence and the cold. Maybe after a while, the coldness won’t hurt.

I can wait.
Just something I wrote on a plane ride when I was feeling poetic

— The End —