Angel

This is an old piece. From 2010 I think. Just re-discovered it and thought to share. Enjoy. x

Angel*

She crept in the room to check on her child!

And the he lay, so meek and mild.

But the room felt cold, abnormally weird

The atmosphere was dark; so into the cot she peered.

Her baby was blue, still as a stone,

She was right when she felt that something was wrong.

She picked up her baby, a victim of theft,

Her baby had been visited by the Angel of Death! 

Dying Love (part 2)

The first dying love series I did was back in November 2013: Dying Love, I wrote it as part one because I knew there were many definitions to a dying love. Wrote this one about a year and a bit after. But for some reason couldn't publish it. Anyways, read through both and let me know.

Dear someone,

 I'm trying to dettach myself from you, so I refuse to address you by name. I believe this will make thng easier when you part. I'll cut the small talk, because I know you enjoy it, and I'll get to the main point. because you don't deserve it. I hate you. I think you are rude, I think you are obnoxious, I think you are alot of bad things to be honest, but the worst thing you've done is be my friend. How could you do that? People may think I'm selfish for being mad at you, but I think your the selfish one. How could you let us grow so close. How could you listen to all my problems and understand me so well. How could you know the right things to say? How could you know secrets about me that even my siblings didn't know? How could you get mad at me, but make up with me before the end of the day? Why didn't you ever just stay mad and just walk away? You didn't have to return, I'd've lived if you didn't but we went through all those and just grew strong. How could you be the only one to tell me when I was wrong. How coud you be so judgemental yet so understanding.
Why did you steal from me and make me laugh about it? Why did you let us have all those good times? I don't understand, what were you trying to achieve? What point were you trying to make? Now I'm here, looking like a fool, because my best friend has chosen to die. You're not allowed to do this. You can't leave me in this earth. You kept me all to yourself and then just dumped me when you were done? What do I do with your secrets? Or you polka dot top? Do I throw out you iPod , how do I stop?
I love you in a way that no one understands, the kind of way that's weird if we both hold hands, but cool when we hug and kiss on the cheeks but now it just one way as only one of us exists.

I hate you right now, because this is what you've done.
I hate you because now I feel lost.
I hate you to the point that my heart in in pain.
I hate you so much , all I can do is LOVE!



I love you.

Toni.

The man in my head.

The man in my head makes it impossible for me to beloved,
Because by his standards, no man is ever enough.
From his looks to his intelligence, to his passions to his names
All other men are commoners to this beauty in my brain.
I know what job he has, how many kids he wants.
I know his life plans and where we will reside.

The light.

I had a random thought this morning...

'If I commit suicide, will people see me as selfish?'

Will they say things like, 'nothing seemed like it was wrong.' or 'She was happy, I don't know why she could've done it.'

Sometimes, us 'friends' are the selfish ones. You never take time to see past your problems and ask what was going on with them. You fail to see the fake smiles and cried out eyes. You made them feel invisible. 

Take for instance my blog. Most of my poems are reflections of my inside. In that they are my feelings in words. Or an exaggeration. I've read back on a few and thought... 'Damn, gurl, you were in a dark place.'
But no one knew this. Why, because the people that checked the blog weren't looking for that, and the people who could see it, weren't checking the blog.

Write way to Write.

Oh, I do love the knocks of a keyboard, 
the fingers reach out and pull back to their base
Or the speedy little melody, 
created by the rapid dance of the thumb on the keypad
How technology makes it so sweet.