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The Dalema

Finding The Woman I'm Meant To Be

Category

Dating

Cravings & Expectations

Today’s the kind of day
She wishes they
would have kept in touch

Today’s the kind of day
She’s needing someone –
the cravings are too much

Today’s the kind of day
She’d love to be seen
wearing nothing but skin

Today’s the kind of day
She’s craving a kiss
she’s craving him

Today’s the kind of day
She’d call familiar –
a deja vu day

Today’s the kind of day
She’d lower her standards
with no expectations

Today’s the kind of day
She’ll recycle the old
or find someone new

Today’s the kind of day
She’ll call someone else
but wish he was you.

  • The Dalema. May 15, 2017.
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Resisting

I wanted to say
I hope you’re ok
And I understand
Why

I wanted to say
I hope nothing’s changed
And I know you’re not
Lying

I wanted to say
I’ve fallen for you
And you’ve kept me
Smiling

I wanted to say
Not to give up on us
I think we should keep
Trying

I wanted to say
The pressure is off
No more rules or
Expectations

I wanted to say
All is not lost
There’s no need for
Directions

I wanted to say
Take time and space
And I’ll be here
Waiting

I wanted to say
I miss you every day
But I’ll just be
Patient

I wanted to say
All these things
But the right words –
I can’t find them

I want to say
What you won’t say
Now we both remain
Silent.

  • The Dalema. April 10, 2017.

Allow Me To Reintroduce Myself

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you.”

– Maya Angelou –

Purposefully misspelled, I created ‘The Dalema’ from letters in my name. It’s a safe place for me to breathe. A place to unload the built-up and untold opinions, emotions, situations and short stories – the baggage I’ve been carrying around with me every day of my life.

I started writing when I was seven. I was on a plane for the first time, traveling from New York to Oregon with my grandma to visit my uncle. She gave me the gift of paper and my uncle gave me the gift of poetry. Together they gave me the gift of writing.

Escaping my body through the pen in my hand and camouflaging themselves as ink on stationary, I realized words had become my tears, my laughter – my screams. Only then did I realize I could start to understand my emotions if I wrote them down. Every day since, my life story has been accumulating on paper.

I’ve learned I’m a hopelessly romantic cynic, a realistic dreamer – a millennial with an old soul. I’m an outgoing introvert who’s insecurely confident. I’m a woman trying to be better than the girl I was meant to be.

Writing is the only way I know to lift the weight of the world off of my chest so I can breathe. The Dalema is my life. The Dalema is my story, untold. Follow along as I get through it – one post at a time.

  • The Dalema

Part II 

You were like a fine wine
I couldn’t afford
And every time I saw the bottle
It made me want it more

I could see you in my glass
The mood set by candlelight
Scared of what I knew was coming
I told myself ‘afford it tonight’

Tell the server to leave the cork
Then swirl, inhale – take a sip
Close my eyes and let them rest
Indulging in the lusciousness

Getting lost in the shades of grape
Tracing the rim with my fingertips
Before I knew it the bottle was empty –
Leaving purple stains on my lips

  • The Dalema. November 6, 2016

A Made Up Mind

I sat there
Staring at the screen
Reading every thing

Reading you walk away
Knowing
There was nothing I could do
Nothing I could say

But I tried
Begging you, calling you
Convincing you
There was no convincing

You made up your mind
You closed off your heart
And I was –
Vulnerable
Disposable
Left behind

The rejection of it all
No matter what you say,
I wasn’t enough
Enough to make you stay

‘It has nothing to do with you
Everything to do with me’
That’s what you said
That’s what you’d say

When I’d beg and plead
Trying to convince you
And maybe even
Trying to convince me

  • The Dalema. November 6, 2016

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