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The Dalema

Finding The Woman I'm Meant To Be

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Choices

Vice

Old habits die hard

Because they never die at all.

And unfortunately,

You’re habitual.

I do it on purpose

To remind me of the pain.

And every time it happens

I wish it never would again.

Old habits die hard

Because they never die at all

When I reach for the phone

You’re the one I call.

And you always answer

Even when you shouldn’t

And every time you do

My God, I wish you wouldn’t.

Old habits die hard

Because they never die at all

And even when I feel nothing

You’re habitual.

  • The Dalema. March 1, 2018.

Balance beam.

Do you want to know what’s really hard?

Life.

Do you want to know what makes it all worth while?

Living.

  • The Dalema. January 2, 2018.

The Better Choice

They say you deserve better
Then walk away
They make the choice for you
Like it’s theirs to make

They make you smile
Then ask you to stop
They created memories
That can’t be forgotten

They say they’re damaged
But you were too
You can’t help caring
Or telling the truth

Your heart is big
But vulnerable
Your best feature
Is what hurts you the most

They same time heals
But you’re still waiting
But not for that –
For his heart to change

They say you deserve better
Then walk away
But your better is him
And you wish he’d choose to stay.

  • The Dalema. February 5, 2017.

Two-Dimensional Silhouette 

That’s exactly why it didn’t work.

You don’t fall in love. You walk to it.
Hand in hand, eyes wide open.
You talk about the path you’re taking.
You trust the person to walk the path with you.

And you walk in – together.
Side by side. Hand in hand.
Eyes. Wide. Open.
One chosen step at a time – together.

Otherwise, you’re just walking alone –
following like a shadow.
A shadow they don’t even see.

Shadows fall and shadows fade.
Love walks and never alone.

  • The Dalema. January 16, 2017.

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

Blank Canvas 

I think you saw their true colors but painted over them. I think you thought maybe, if you mixed your colors with theirs, the painting would be a real work of art. We do that when we love someone.

Unfortunately, I wasted a lot of time repainting. I wasted a lot of time in denial; always blaming the poor lighting or the colors I was mixing with. Then I realized something, all those times I thought I was choosing the wrong colors, but I didn’t even like my own colors. You can’t paint a beautiful picture if you hate the colors you’re working with.

So I changed my colors. I spent a lot of time staring at a lonely, blank canvas. And I threw away a lot of paintings.

I know my colors now. I know the colors that mix well with mine; anything less just won’t do. I don’t want to look down the road years from now and want to throw away the life I’ve worked so hard with my partner to paint.

Don’t be the only one painting. Love your colors. Make sure they love their own colors, too. If they don’t, if you don’t, the painting will never be more than a recycled canvas – an artless piece of trash – no matter how talented the painter is.

  • The Dalema. August, 2016

To The Someone I Used To Know

I want to say something
and I probably shouldn’t –
but I’m gonna

One day I woke up
I found myself wanting –
to be someone’s

I wanted to try something
because they told me –
‘you never know’

So I tried my best
I gave my all –
I held hope

I didn’t expect to feel
so much, so soon –
anything for anyone

Yet there I was hoping
he would heal me –
mend my broken

I thought it was something
or should I say –
I was someone’s

He made me trust him
think we were different –
like we belonged

Somehow he made it stop
my fear of heartbreak –
fear of loss

Somehow I found the strength
to be only myself –
because of ‘us’

I’ve wanted to say more
and I probably shouldn’t –
so I don’t

But I found myself praying
I woke up wishing –
there was hope

Although he decided to leave
and I’m still hurting –
I’m not afraid

I found myself missing him
and he should know –
it is ok

I need to say something
I’ve kept a secret –
but I’ll share

I once woke up smiling
thinking he might stop –
thinking of her

I may have some regrets
and I won’t mention –
he should’ve stayed

Of course I’d be lying
if I denied wishing –
somewhere, somehow, someday

I will tell you something
and I probably shouldn’t –
but I’m gonna

Today I woke up thinking
I found myself wanting –
to be someone’s

Someone who could love me
somewhere safe and warm –
sometime very soon

But the somehow was missing
the somewhere was missing –
He. Someone. You.

  • The Dalema. October 31, 2016.

Dead End

I was a block away from our place
Well, the place that used to be ours
I was being pulled in that direction
But I was afraid you’d be home

I’d imagined myself driving by
And I’d see the front porch light on
The picture windows would show it all –
You, your wife and the kids wearing smiles

I always thought there would be a time
When our paths would unexpectedly cross
I’d be wearing a huge engagement ring 
You’d be looking plump and miserably unhappy

So I pulled up to the light and my blinker was on
But that same pull swept up again
And I put it in reverse and moved to the other lane
Guess I just wasn’t ready to see the truth

I might be living in this city again
The only place I’ve considered home
But to be honest, it wasn’t home because of us
It’s home because of me – I’m glad I kept driving.

  • The Dalema, 10.22.16

Measurements Of Time

60 seconds in a minute
60 minutes each hour, too
24 hours in a day
I can’t stop thinking about you

In a week, there’s seven days
In most months, only four weeks
52 weeks, three years in a row
We left things incomplete

Three months in a quarter
Four quarters in a year
Eight hour shifts at work
I still wish you were here

48-hour weekends
On the last day, I get sad
Monday’s seem to last so long
I miss everything we had

Five work days each week
This year, five days vacation
Six hours of sleep at night
I wanted to make you complaisant

Two hour phone calls – weekly
63 days of getting to know you
9 weeks of pure happiness
You aren’t here to hold on to

29 days to break a habit
14 days since our last kiss
Time apart is immeasurable –
Please don’t give up on this.

– Danyle L. M. (9/19/16)

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