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The Dalema

Finding The Woman I'm Meant To Be

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second chances

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.

Broken Links 

Pinky promises
Meant the world to me
You’d kiss your hand
After linking our pinkies

And I always said
No takebacksies
If you leave
No second chances

But I’d let you back in
If you wanted me
I’d break my rules
Like you broke those links.

  • The Dalema, 2016.

Sticky Sweet

The tailgating, sunshine and summer breeze
The ice cold beer running through me
We walked in, you had your hand in mine
That summer day – I think of it all the time

The way the bass pumped through my chest
The pictures we took, so we wouldn’t forget
Dancing to the guitar, your hands wandering
Our bodies lost in ‘Pour some sugar on me’

Like the sounds blasting from the speakers
The memory is still ringing in my ears
I’ll keep craving you and I can’t comprehend
How you cut us off like that concert wristband.

  • The Dalema. January 5, 2017.

The Disposable Toothbrush

What it’s come down to is
wondering if
the toothbrush is still there
in the drawer
waiting for my return

Or

Did you toss it away
throw it in the trash
it was for travel after all
I’d still hoped
you would have kept it
just incase

Or

It was kept accidentally
an afterthought
due to this poetry
and now you don’t know what to do
keep it, trash it
it’s up to you

But I hope it’s still there
and I hope someday I’ll find out
when I open the drawer
and have to use it myself.

  • The Dalema. December 31, 2016.

The Squeaky Wheel Gets The Oil

Sometimes I wish I could’ve been more
Often I wonder if I should’ve cared less
I’ll always think you’re out of my league
But today I know you’re still my favorite kiss

Sometimes I wish I could’ve been yours
Often I wonder if it just wasn’t our time
I always think I shouldn’t think of you
But today I know you won’t leave my mind

Sometimes I wish I could’ve seen the ending
Often I wonder if it’s really, truly over
I’ll always think I sabotaged things
But today I know you’re still hurting from her

Sometimes I wish you would’ve tried harder
Often I wonder if maybe you still care
I always think I should date other people
But today I know they’d never begin to compare

Sometimes I wish I could just give you up
Often I hope you’ll be there at my door
I’ll always think what we have is unfinished
But today I don’t think I should think anymore.

-The Dalema. December 29, 2016.

Wish Upon A Star

If dreams were like wishes
And wishes came true
You’d be healing me
And I’d be saving you

  • The Dalema. December 23, 2016

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

I Used To Fold My Underwear

I used to fold my underwear
Match the linens line by line
It took a lot of time and patience
But it made me feel organized

I used to roll the windows down
Music playing, wind in my hair
I was never late or in a hurry
Nothing but smiles, no worries or cares

I used to plan out everything
Outfits, trips and my future goals
I could do anything I set my mind to
Go anywhere I wanted to go

I used to trust being ‘good’ was enough
What you give is what you receive
Keep the faith and forget the rest
Happiness would find its way to me

I used to think I’d make a difference
Leave my mark on the world someday
Changing lives and spreading love –
No one would ever forget my name

I used to believe in the believing
Winners don’t quit, cheaters never win
Love yourself and love will find you
Everything happens for a reason

Life has done so much it’s changed me –
Challenges, struggles, loss and pain
And I used to fold my underwear
But I don’t think I ever will again.

  • The Dalema. December 7, 2016

Dear John

Dec. 1, 2016

Dear John,

These letters are written – have been written – to end relationships. They’ve been used as goodbyes. This letter, my letter Dear John, is the opposite. This letter is the only way I know how to ask you to come back. The only way I know how to tell you I need you in my life. The only way for me to know that you know I’m right here.

Every day – that’s how often you cross my mind. When something good happens I want to tell you. When something bad happens I want your advice. When something makes me laugh, I want you to experience my smile. The smile that used to be a reason behind yours. Every day I wonder how you are, what you’re doing and if you’re hurting. Not because of me, of course, but because of reasons beyond your control. Every day is another day I want to be there for you.

Dear John, please know you matter to me. You made me feel normal, wanted – beautiful and confident. You gave those gifts to me just by being you. I can’t explain it but you were my lucky charm. I felt my best knowing you were just a phone call or short drive away. I felt happiness knowing I’d see you again. You always had a way of logically reasoning with me. Making sense of things I’ve never been able to make sense of. You were the calm in my life’s storms. I miss that, I miss you. I miss our friendship. Whatever we were, whatever we weren’t – that’s all I want and I only want it with you.

So, Dear John, this letter isn’t a goodbye – it’s a plead. It’s me asking for my chance back. It’s me asking for you. Whatever’s left of you is more than enough for me.

Yours,

D

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