400. Brother Dear, Don’t Leave Me Here

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Brother dear, don’t leave me here.

It’s lonely in this closet.

Sister dear, I fear…I fear,

The harms which men commit.

Sister dear, don’t leave me here.

It’s lonely in this room.

Brother dear, I fear…I fear,

This life will be my tomb.

Brother dear, don’t leave me here.

It’s lonely in my mind.

Sister dear, I fear…I fear,

I’ll one day lose my mind.

Sister dear, don’t leave me here,

It’s lonely without you.

Brother dear, I fear…I fear,

The past we can’t undo.

K. Aldaya, 6/22/17

Picture: From Pinterest; http://weheartit.com/entry/27044263

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396. Fly Away Child

The grass-blades blew around my feet,

As a child I looked to the sky.

I knew you were my everything,

Yet one day, that you would die.

I studied you in the distance;

A form of God on earth.

I worshipped without question,

The toiler of my birth.

I called out with no reply.

I saw you there unmoving.

I wondered why you were so still,

Neither loving nor disapproving.

Like a picture of a memory,

You were perfect in my eyes;

With a smile: warm and tender.

I was naive and unwise.

Then a feeling hit me like a rock,

And I ran as tears fell down.

I ran, and ran, and ran,

Through the wheat at dawn.

I came so close to you,

I swear I heard your heart,

And as you faded away,

I kept listening for your heart.

Yet, your heart, it left with you,

Along with my youth.

You left me unsure of my worth,

For to me, you were it’s proof.

I was only a child afraid,

Who wanted you to stay,

But my picture of you drifted,

On the winds of a new day.

You never ran to me, not once;

Nor cared to hear my heart.

If I ever needed a hug,

Or if I’d fallen apart.

I wish I’d known on that day long ago,

No matter how hard I ran,

I’d never have made it there in time,

For you to hold my hand.

The grass-blades blew around my feet,

On the day I said goodbye,

To the picture I had of you,

And turned toward the sky.

It’s blue was as an ocean: pure,

I found hope in it’s peace,

That even those left all alone,

May find their love increase.

The grass-blades blew around my feet,

As a child I looked to the sky.

I wish I could have let her know,

That one day she’d be able to fly…

Into the loving arms of some distant, future sky.

K. Aldaya, 5/20/17

Picture: https://www.videezy.com/free-video/cornfield

369. Ember

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Here I am just like a child,

Again I feel the pain.

Our hearts are just too wild,

To be contained.

They feel too deep…

Feel too much;

They pull us to and fro.

Hearts recall, and with such…

Fervor and fire!

The past we wish to forget,

Yet our hearts beat to the echoes,

Of pasts filled with regret,

And pointless suffering.

Our hearts always remember,

And the body never forgets.

A persevering, igneous ember,

Left from the fires of youth.

K. Aldaya, 9/22/16

Picture: Originally posted on Tumblr by twerkingtothebaxterbuilding; https://giphy.com/gifs/fire-hand-flame-83QhSF6YdWGIM

330. Lolita

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I like cake, and I like candy.

Blades for cutting wrists are handy.

I like treats, and I like frosting.

No one knows what childhood’s costing.

I like balloons, and I like games.

Obligatory silence maims.

I like dolls, and I like tea-time;

And touching children is a crime.

I like toys, and I like cupcakes.

This world is full of frauds and fakes.

I like pink, and I like parties;

And rapists rape children with ease.

I like frills, and I like laces.

Shut the door and close the cases.

I like carousels.  I like bows…

Scarred-wrists dressed in lolita clothes.

I like teddies and lullabies…

For they cover the shame-filled cries,

Of innocence’s homicide.

K. Aldaya, 1/20/16

Picture: By milk-rose on Tumblr; http://milk-rose.tumblr.com/post/21632099649

319. A Story of Youth

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Delivered in the Winter,

Of 1869,

Without mother or father.

I entered the world alone,

And was placed up for a home.

Men and women entered,

To stand and contemplate,

Whether it would be absurd,

To obtain something like me;

Many parents and kids could not agree.

Then after months, one day,

A family saw me,

And resolved they’d indeed pay…

My way into their fine life;

A daughter, father, and loving wife.

Days slipped by without thought,

Or a care in the world,

And soon those days were forgot,

In all of the excitement.

In comfort each day was spent.

I had a family,

And spent each day playing,

With my sweet sister, Emily.

We were best friends forever.

Our bond no one could sever.

We played dress-up and sang,

Of the delight of youth.

Serving black tea and meringue,

In gardens in the Springtime.

Life felt loving and sublime.

Change is a part of life,

And though I knew this well.

It still cut me like a knife,

When Emily ignored me;

And spent no more time with me.

One day in our bedroom,

She saw me, and she sighed.

Then kicked me into a tomb;

And there within that closet,

I sat and cried ’til sunset.

Soon it became routine,

To be hit and disdained;

And no one cared she was mean.

For I was not born to be,

A blood member of the family.

Then a brother was born,

And he would hurt me too.

No one cared my heart was torn;

And no one would rescue me,

Or heal my battered body.

Emily, in Winter,

Many long years later,

Looked at me, and I at her.

With my eyes I cried to her:

“Don’t you miss how things once were?”

“Emily, I love you.”

“The only love I’ve known,

Came from my friendship with you.”

“My only family’s here.”

“So please do not leave me here!”

She reached her hand to mine,

And walked to the window.

Then her eyes returned to mine,

And with disgust she pushed me;

Without time to scream, or plea.

I could no longer feel.

My face was lined with scars.

My legs broke from the ordeal,

And yet I begged forgiveness,

For being born so worthless.

All I wanted was love.

To give and receive it.

For a moment we felt love,

Before expectations changed.

After all: Society’s deranged!

Love grows and fades away.

Nothing lasts forever.

Beauty and youth fade away,

And a souls’ worth goes with it.

The world yells to reject it!

Out with old. In with new.

So the story still goes.

In time, spurned; replaced with the new.

When the novelty runs out,

All things are, like trash, thrown out.

I died in the Winter,

Of 1883.

When my kind, loving sister,

Was no longer young and small,

And too old for childish things, like me, her porcelain doll.

K. Aldaya, 9/17/15

Picture: Painter unknown;  http://www.edmondhistory.org/events/victorian-tea/