January 15, 1815
Journal,
Its cold. My food is almost gone, I can’t feel my hands. I lost my hat; my ears are frozen. My sisters are dying. Sasha has pneumonia, and Nastea’s lost her jas and shoes. My hair is falling out. I look at the broken down train behind us. Tree’s sleep soundlessly on top, boven of it. I sit at a boom trunk, with u on my lap, and a scrawny pencil in my hand. Nastea sits beside Sasha, feeding her berries and herbs. I hope things get better, Journal. I hope things get better.
Bye Journal,
Nadia
Journal,
Its cold. My food is almost gone, I can’t feel my hands. I lost my hat; my ears are frozen. My sisters are dying. Sasha has pneumonia, and Nastea’s lost her jas and shoes. My hair is falling out. I look at the broken down train behind us. Tree’s sleep soundlessly on top, boven of it. I sit at a boom trunk, with u on my lap, and a scrawny pencil in my hand. Nastea sits beside Sasha, feeding her berries and herbs. I hope things get better, Journal. I hope things get better.
Bye Journal,
Nadia
I am bored with love
and it's passionless limbs
that drape over my bed
in a lethargic state of impotence
while wearing the same red heart
my soul picked up hitchhiking
off highway serendipity
Now here we are
alone in togetherness
trying to build dreams
with two door fours and glue,
but even a home
won't tie us together
when our hearts live alone
Poetic vows cliched
into nothingness
like all words do, eventually
and we allowed our bodies to become another pair of hollow shadows that make love to a wall
instead of each other
and we wonder why
the roses are dying
and it's passionless limbs
that drape over my bed
in a lethargic state of impotence
while wearing the same red heart
my soul picked up hitchhiking
off highway serendipity
Now here we are
alone in togetherness
trying to build dreams
with two door fours and glue,
but even a home
won't tie us together
when our hearts live alone
Poetic vows cliched
into nothingness
like all words do, eventually
and we allowed our bodies to become another pair of hollow shadows that make love to a wall
instead of each other
and we wonder why
the roses are dying
I remember the times of the i love you's
and times when it was i hate you.
But u come back begging at me feet.
And when my pity defeated me.
and the sweet seranades, in our matching shades.
My rose collection, evidence of your effection.
The sheets unmade, from the nights u stayed.
The child in me, from the times u loved me.
The debt u owe, from using the word borrow.
The times i was scared, was the time u spared.
And this dress i wear, in which are people become aware, that u are gone, and withdrawn.
The memories i hold, they are written in bold.
my broken heart, from when u apart.
so rest now my love, up now from above.
and times when it was i hate you.
But u come back begging at me feet.
And when my pity defeated me.
and the sweet seranades, in our matching shades.
My rose collection, evidence of your effection.
The sheets unmade, from the nights u stayed.
The child in me, from the times u loved me.
The debt u owe, from using the word borrow.
The times i was scared, was the time u spared.
And this dress i wear, in which are people become aware, that u are gone, and withdrawn.
The memories i hold, they are written in bold.
my broken heart, from when u apart.
so rest now my love, up now from above.