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at the edge of my vision.

am I imagining it?

nay, I am not.

it's you.

I heard your voice as the voice of a stranger

now I know it was you all along.

but your voice is calling my name

and I wonder why

what ghost of the past

what past me

was worth remembering?

and I hear your voice calling my name

and I think

how do you know me still

I'm a shell of who I was.

how do you know me?

who am I?

if you know to call my name

does that mean I still have a name

does that mean I'm a person

that I just can't see?

everything crumbles

time tears everything down

nothing stays

but what about me?

have I lost myself

has time moved on leaving my consciousness here?

stuck beyond a time it should have faded

or been ripped, by other violent means

stayed too long and now I don't know it

I look in the mirror, there's only a stranger.

this is why I usually don't

look in the mirror.

I prefer to pretend I know myself

a pretty, but flimsy, pretence.

whenever I catch sight of myself

my words as well

I wonder whose mouth shaped those

whose fingers?

mine? but I've crumbled to dust

inside, I'm but dust:

empty, and old,

and when others look inside me

Okay so this poem is not very good but here it is. It’s mainly me ranting about Thomas. It’s about falling out of love with someone and making a list involuntarily about all the reasons why it didn’t work. About all the wrong things in our relationship, albeit short. About how he played with me. I hope it helps some of you coping with similar situations.

Now that I see it clear Now that it is done Now that the thing is cold and realer so I store all the good with me But i also see things i didn’t before…

You say you are a feminist But there’s nothing feminist about this It’s so counterrevolutionary For you to keep a main chick and then the rest to keep you satisfied Like used handkerchiefs, in your Tinder account You merely want someone to get your dick wet on And you won’t care about anything to carry on with the plan

Past all the pleasure you gave, There’s nothing left I fell for you, but you didn’t at all

You’re a liar, you are not a monster but you might be close When you say we all use each other and so do you When you give polyamory a bad name When you rebuff me in such an ugly way Just because I am myself

Was it necessary to play with me like this? To say you’ll kiss me, when I confess To touch me in such an enticing way Was it necessary to make me fall like that? You have a heart, but it is far from us your lover gals

It hurts It hurts What you’ve done to me Shouldn’t be done But I stopped caring I broke the cell Got to breathe again I broke your spell

Now all you did Painted in an unpleasant light You used me, it’s true

Dancing in the shadows

Under a sky

Of a thousand moons

Chanting with all your might

Reaching a delirious delight

Say goodbye to yesterday's sorrows

And delight in the

Possibilities of tomorrow

As we dance

Under a sky

Of a thousand moons.

2 December 2022

Climbing the stairs of fame with immense power of buying everything in this world,  I turned back and I knew.. That I was sad again….  Her brown eyes, with power of hypnotizing, mirror of her soul, coated with kajal Her pink cheeks and red lips reminded me of a rose Regrets held me….  And I was sad again….  She gifted me with her unconditional love and coat of loyalty Her long fingers with red nail paint filled the gaps between my fingers She hugged me tight, slowly laying down on my shoulder, leaving her fragrance in me.  The only thing she ever demanded was my love and time.  But I never valued her…  I was sad again…. 

Her blue scarf was flying with the wind  She looked fabulous with her curly hair waving in air With hope in her eyes, she asked me “Will you marry me?“  Busy climbing stairs of fame I had ignored her…  I was sad again….  Teary eyed she was, with a broken heart she kept walking without demanding anything again

Away…. Far away….  I did not stop her…  And I was sad again…. 

I wish I had held her… I wish I had kissed her. I wish I had told her she was my  only princess… 

And I was sad again…. 

There’s a pad of paper in my hand

With hopes that it might right wrongs

And make amends.

But these words that I write aren’t working so well

It’s been that way since the moment I fell.

I feel as if my strength has been drained

The smile on my face is hard and strained.

But now is my time

I will stand up and shine.

Nothing will stand in my way

I will climb higher everyday.

You might see me some time later on

And realise that the choice you made was wrong.

But now I am gone.

And everything is the way it should be,

For today and onwards

With iron-clad fist

Did the man swing

The pounding of which

Left little of the girl to bury

With tongue of steel,

Did the woman weld,

The hounding of which

Left little of boy to bury

The girl was left to the abyss,

And the boy was left to the bliss,

Of a life well missed.

A girl, once stone still, Now fast as lighting within a storm,

Burst through her cocoon,

A coffin, once  was her resting place,

Now she was within a new form.

With her fist of iron,

She made sure to swing,

The pounding of which,

Left little of the man to bury

A boy, once long lost,

Now as cold as ice,

Burst from his abyss, 

A mental-hospital, once was his resting place, 

Now he made sure to take their rights . 

With his tongue of steel,

He sure did wield,

The hounding of which,

Left little of the woman to bury.

The girl was not left to the abyss,

And the boy was not left to the bliss,

I’ve written a great many things,

Their subjects ranging from heartbreak to death,

And so many things in between.

The stains and faults of man range far and wide,

And I dare say,

I´ve written about almost all,

From an outside perspective, 

Of course.

I’ve been asked, 

Why don’t I write happy things,

I don’t have words, nor the heart,

To tell people my truth.

I’ve written happy things,

But they hold hidden spite,

And self-forbidden anger.

Happy things,

Are hard to write,

When the world around us

Is coming to a close right at our feet.

I write this now,

Before I take one final bow,

To tell my truth.

Happy things, you see,

Require happy thoughts,

Much like flying to Neverland with Peter Pan.

But,

I am not Peter Pan or Wendy Darling,

No, I fear in this story of ours, 

I am but Captain Hook,

And I have never been all that nice.

I’ve played the role of the three fates,

I’ve taken on the role of the ferryman,

 as I hand-delivered my written characters to Hades

Never once, 

Have I been Hercules.

So,

As you can tell,

With heart of fire,

She was made of ire,

Her soul stained with the past,

Yet still blinding in its brilliance.

She moved beyond this plane of mine,

And created one all her own. 

As I pleaded,

She gave her reasons for why she would not stay.

She said I was too calm,

I was too in love with peaceful chaos,

I had no idea how to tell her that,

My body is a mix of conflicting energies,

My mind falling apart worse than a decaying zombie.

She said I was too much of a reader,

I was much more in love with the written word, more than I was with her,

I had no idea how to tell her I loved her more than anything ever created,

My mind wrapped up in reading others’ love

So maybe I could express my own.

She said I was too okay,

I was too in love with the idea of letting her go,

I had no idea how to tell her that ,

I want my smiling face to be the last she ever sees of me,

That I wanted her to remember me fondly, not with sadness.

Now, as she prepares to leave,

She says I am too quick to anger,

I am too in love with dancing with my temper,

I have no idea how to tell her that,

I know what she does when I’m away,

Lipstick-stained shirts are hard to clean,

Even harder to hide,

And red isn't my color.

Feeling sorta blue,

why not just take an IOU

for all of today,

I promise to pay,

another day

When my head is on properly

and walls aren't caving in.

I though I was home free

turns out,

this world has a hold on me

why didn't I see?

Feeling sorta blue,

why not just take an IOU

for all of today,

I promise to pay,

another day

When my head is on properly

and walls aren't caving in.

I though I was home free

turns out,

this world has a hold on me

why didn't I see?

Feeling sorta blue,

why not just take an IOU

for all of today,

I promise to pay,

another day

When my head is on properly

and walls aren't caving in.

I though I was home free

turns out,

this world has a hold on me

why didn't I see?

Our can-die perspective

is perhaps reflective

on this time-old reality,

created by a small mentality

filled with brutality,

towards those who did nothing wrong,

they only existed

yet faced persisted resistance

My memory is failing

Trying to remember does nothing by prove to be unavailing,

I am falling

I am watching

You coined me sticky note

told me to remember everything you say

But when I did, you always waved me away.

You are mad when I live up to my name,

my mouth is louder than your ears,

you cannot stop me,

like a broken record,

a neon-colored sticky note,

you cannot stop me,

If i had more than the heart of a lamb i would be drowned in snowflakes, basking

In the shadowy warmth of the midnight sun

Would you let me in or would you hold me in the drift? I will

Overheat in your glow and the sky will melt, hold my defrosted heart,

And board up my bedroom window lest it beckons the floods

Until we can grow in the warmth together

“Will it matter when you’re on your death bed?”

Will it? Probably not.

You’ve asked me many times “Daniella when you are 90 on your death bed will it matter”

One of MANY phrases of advice you have allowed me to learn.

THANK YOU.

If you are to be laid on your last bed, I wish to be there. To love you and to cherish you.