Absence

The crumbling has started already.
Not so much time has gone by and already, I can feel the fading. Pictures and recordings are still there, endlessly on repeat. Lost amongst the rest of my life, they pop up at the most unexpected times. They are what Aspartame is to Sugar. It tricks the tongue but leaves the core in withdrawal.
I am starting to forget.
Tidbits of memories get tangled with dreamed conversations until I can’t distinguish between those which happened and those which were never pronounced.
The well is still within my reach. Again and again, I turn towards it, extracting the few words I am lucky to be granted with. As precious as they are, they never convey the full feel of you.
I miss you.

The best in myself

Prior to meeting you, it was a non-existent concept
After a while, I noticed it coming up awfully often
The learning process is arduously slow despite my efforts
I keep failing over and over again and in the
End, I am afraid I will not get it.
Nothing seems to do the trick. Yet,
Carefully, you keep teaching me, demonstrating your own perfect mastery in front of the
Endless prospect of me ever learning.

Innocent

Innocent:

 

Being a virgin does not make you innocent
It makes you nothing more than an ignorant.
Many times I fell head over heels
Again and again breaking the seals

 

 

And each time it’s a purer me
That ends up in your arms Sweetie.
Time goes by stealing the silly dreams
The wishful illusions of perfect seams

 

 

I’ll take the sweat, and the beer breath
Over the roses and the even after death
I’ll go for the scruffy mornings
Over the smooth and clean evenings

 

 

No matter what they say about it
Some are born with old souls and wise wits
Time flows differently for each
Seems like mine fights again aging fiercely

 

 

Someday day we might be reunited Darling
You’ll grab your guitar and sing to me
The years that passed on while
We tried to live our dreams and become wise

 

 

Can already tell you one thing, Honey
You probably don’t think you’ve still got it
And It might sound strange
But I’m in love with your innocence

BPS: Blank Page Syndrom

WRITING

 

Sometimes, it is a fever.

 

You can feel it brewing under your skin.

Shivers and you wanna curl under the covers,

Draping yourself in whatever can keep the world at bay.

 

Sometimes, it is a blocked nose

 

You cannot breathe through it,

Opening your mouth like a goldfish

And yet, it won’t let the air go through

 

Sometimes, it is a cough

 

You wish to control it,

whether it is to stop it

Or let it flow at your pace

 

 

Is there some kind of Vaporub against the Blank Page Syndrome?

 

Soulmates

Soulmates

Destined lovers.

That person,

Only for me.

That person,

Just for me.

Is it real?

Yes it is

Does he exist?

Yes he does

Where is he ?

I don’t know

Is he lost?

Probably

What if he doesn’t find me?

I don’t know.

What if he does not look for me?

I’m not sure

What if, he’s already gone?

Gone?

Under a bus, taken away by disease, or..

Then he is gone

Then, there would not be anyone for me left?

No, there would not.

But then, what would there be left, for me?

I don’t know.

But, he could be gone, so many people go before they should.

I know.

But, you won’t disappear.

No.

And from this little spark of hope, that does not hold any of the answers my heart tremble with, I tried to run away.

I gathered around, all the stranded pieces of mind I could find. I buried the spark under all the clothes i could find: pride, indifference and self hatred, adding layers and layers of discarded thoughts, a pile forming, just like the same as the pile of clothes in my room.

It went higher, and weighed more and more on the back of my mind.

And yet, the light still showed, and blinded me. It would run through my eyes, up my optical nerves, and attacked my brain with pain. Painful flash of lights that I could not erase.

So, I turned my back on it. And closed my imaginary eyelids.

Slipped back  in the darkness.

Somewhere warm, and soft.

Somewhere comfortable and soothing.

Somewhere I can curl, my hands under my cheeks.

I’ll just sleep,

Wait.

Glitter cockroach

Glitter Cockroach

Butterfly or Cockroach you know

All the good and all the bad

And even more fucking well

All the dirt in Between

You ve got so many faces

Burning True Easy on Fake

But no one could ever hide

Your damn teasing smile

Another train takes me

So far away from you Honey

On the path you rammed me into

Still  I feel that chill giving stare of yours

Butterfly or Cockroach you know

All the good and all the bad

And even more fucking well

All the dirt in Between

You and I were a train wreck

The green train missed the deck

And blasted away black dust

From my charcoal covered fingers

God knows being blasted is my thing

You might not be that good at banging

But pretty ladies do know how to use their hips

To bring out the best from those annoying lips

Butterfly or Cockroach you know

All the good and all the bad

And even more fucking well

All the dirt in Between

I love you more than I should

And I can’t stand those attitudes of yours

All those years balanced on my vows precariously

Making me fall was really  that tempting Honey?

[ Right . F air enough Hon’. Ok. Let’s do this ]

So take it away and reload

No worries of getting overload

For another round we go

And next time we’ll still not talk

Butterfly or cockroach I need

All your good and all your bad

And of course Honey

All the dirt in between

Angie R. Daniel.

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