The things we find when we clean house...

I wrote these in August... they were inspired by someone who loves me, who I couldn't love back that way....

It is amazing how prophetic my poetry tends to be... or could be that Karma works faster than we are given to believe....

Here they are a story of my last relationship, written by a relationship that never was...

i wish i could love you
just the way you want me to
all diligent and devoted
wanting you thru and thru…

i wish i could see you
the way you see me
all perfect and haloed
and wanting to be…

i don’t see that person
i don’t feel that love
it isn’t here in me…

my beautiful dove
my heart is all barren
the soil there is parched
its art is long faded
its music is barred…
the keys, are with the devil,
and he won’t bring them back,
goodbye dove, i am freeing you,
don’t ever come back.

By dahlia holmes-Scurry 8/20/2004 3:00 p.m.


i am searching for the words
for the rhythm, for the rhyme…
i am aching, and bleeding
line by line…
trying to write,
succeeding at failure…
nothing makes sense,
nothing fits,
nothing feels right,
nothing sits;…
a picture in my hand,
a picture in my brain,
a picture in my heart,
and you down the drain…
memories used to be easy for me
easy used to be easy…
now it’s only you that i see,
and there is nothing easy about seeing you.
everything hard,
everything new,
nothing familiar,
nothing the same,
playing along and i don’t even know the game.
i told you i loved you,
you smiled,
i told you my heart was yours,
you laughed and i cried,
i want you gone, i want you here,
i want your peace,
i get your fear,
i crave your love,
it’s over there…
where i can’t be.
and you won’t let me,
and you won’t leave,
and i won’t let me…
rambling on,
want it to end,
needing to write it all out,
the paper my only friend.

By dahlia holmes-Scurry 8/20/04

Tear Stained….

all the letters on my page
forming pools of ink and rage…

ink and rage,
rage and pain,
all live on my page again…

gone are the flowers,
gone is the sun,
gone is my smile,
gone is the fun…

they left with you,
their promise un-kept,
i washed away the in stains while i wept.

blurry words on fuzzy pages,
lie still beneath my finger tips,
heavy lidded damns are breaking,
holding tears back…then they slip.

By dahlia holmes-Scurry 8/20/04