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Emily Bostic Sep 2018
she is a storm
forged of
ice and glass
but her
like the
Emily Bostic Sep 2018
you may be broken
you may be
pulled apart
frayed at
the edges
tossed around
turned away
beaten down
burnt out
led astray
is not
your backbone
my dear
it is
stepping stone
Emily Bostic Sep 2018
you scooped out my stomach
you pulled out every *****
and replaced them with flower petals
because one day
you thought they might
reach my eyes
and make me beautiful again
and you may love me
like you used to
and I might
smile with my teeth
like I used to
but those flowers
never grew high enough
and now I’m left
with this
that can
never be filled
Emily Bostic Jan 2017
I am the type of person,
To bleed through ink,
Swiping both hands from side to side,
Smudging my feelings into white page,
Touching the chunky blots to feel,
My tangled thoughts,
In their entirety.

I want be alive.
I want to bear the weight,
Of a thousand emotions on my rough shoulders,
And if that isn’t enough,
I don’t know what I will do,
Anything to feel like I’m not dead.

I am here,
I am alive.

This is what existing feels like.

— The End —