Sometimes I wonder
Why I write haikus so much
Maybe I like them.

To give life you must take life,
and as our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion-blooded sea
I pass upon serious inward-breaking shoals rimmed
with white-legged, white-bellied rotting creatures
lengthily dead and rioting against surrounding scenes.
Dear child, I only did to you what the sparrow
did to you; I am old when it is fashionable to be
young; I cry when it is fashionable to laugh.
I hated you when it would have taken less courage
to love.

How do you know when to turn the page
or to just give up and close the book?
When does it all become just pointless rage?
Or other feelings that can't be overtook?

Today I wrote a piece three times in my head.

Vividly,
each version more sad than the one before it.

Too sad to write.

Too sad to share.

Too sad to put in a diary
where it suppose to be safe.

Because,
I don't want to take a chance that I would ever see this again!

I don't know why I feel the way I do.

Could it be my assumptions, exaggerated?

Maybe it's the truth, I don't know.

Either way,
if it's just my imagination,

It shall remain in my head... unwritten!

~ a ButterFly εїз

Monsters are real, ghost are real too.
      They live inside us,
                And sometimes
They win.

If I make the lashes dark
And the eyes more bright
And the lips more scarlet,
Or ask if all be right
From mirror after mirror,
No vanity's displayed:
I'm looking for the face I had
Before the world was made.

What if I look upon a man
As though on my beloved,
And my blood be cold the while
And my heart unmoved?
Why should he think me cruel
Or that he is betrayed?
I'd have him love the thing that was
Before the world was made.

I need you most when it's quiet
When there's nothing on my mind
And you.
These are the instances,
To have you close
Within reach
My fingertips feeling your warmth
These are the instances
I want you most
Not when it's dark
Not when I'm sad
Or happy or angry,
Not when I'm lonely
Not when it's sunny,
But when it's quiet.

-D.D.