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24 hour sign posted outside of the over night pharmacy in a town
where it seems to be night the majority of the time
he sits in his room and counts the cars that hiss by his window
anxiety starts at his feet,
and numbs them as it makes its way up to his neck
and strangles him in the high of another attack
his mind is a galaxy of concoctions
his pain meds, cough syrup, happy pills
swirl around with the blood on the white marble sink
until it creates an unsaturated rainbow of a man's grievances
the 24 hour pharmacy is open
to satisfy your 2 a.m. needs of a fix
when you suddenly decide you can't continue
the 3 a.m. decision to end it all
the 3:30 a.m. promise that maybe if you just get some sleep,
it will go away in the morning
the 4 a.m. insomnia that leads to bloodshot eyes at 5
and the overdose pharmacy will still be there
as you struggle to breathe;
drowning in the ocean you've created
I just want to know you're ok
 May 2015 Emily Rowe
Tatiana
and the first question that came to my mind
was how on earth did I even survive?
Because I know why I wrote what I wrote
and I know how much I choked
on the agony of words that poured out of me.
I know what I have been through
and these poems record it.
They know too.
And to a degree,
everyone who reads them knows as well.
But at the same time
no one else knows for certain
what exactly was my Hell.
How did I survive?
Why did I choose to keep on going?
Why did I choose to stop writing at one point?
Was I really that depressed?
I guess I was.

*I guess I was.
A hazy sun low in a cloudless sky
Of the most wonderful shade of blue
The only evidence of a cool night gone by
Lies in a blanket of sparkling dew.

Cobwebs glisten in the morning suns rays
Like diamonds in delicate lace
Silky trails sparkle where snails made their way
Sunlight capturing each delicate trace.

A stillness apparent in unmoving trees
Casting long shadows everywhere
Undisturbed by even the softest breeze
As a crisp coolness pervades the air.

Magpies, pigeons, and crows take flight
the first slow stirrings of the morning
Each one welcoming the morning light,
The sunshine bright and warming.  

Leaves of yellow, red, brown and gold
Reflect gloriously the morning sun
Creatures stirring, growing ever more bold
As another Autumn day has begun.
 May 2015 Emily Rowe
Ysa Pa
TO
 May 2015 Emily Rowe
Ysa Pa
TO
To fake a smile
To make things seem worth while
To force a laugh
To blend with the riffraff
To act so tough
To bluff
To be carefree
To seem happy
To motivate
To hold on and wait
To fight
To shed some light
To put on a mask
To remove the casque
To keep this act going
To keep on moving
To hold back the tears
To face the fears
To leap
To dive deep
To wander
To let things squander
To get lost
To prevent an emotional exhaust
To put aside the memories that we shared
To add more words
To keep acting like a third


ARE ALL SO EASY

Than...

To accept
And
To forget...

That you and I
USED to be a *we
 May 2015 Emily Rowe
Ysa Pa
His blackish hair
His deep eyes with that devilish stare
That crazy smile that I can't forget
This empty feeling knowing he would never care

A person I can't seem to ignore
A guy that made me sore
That happy fellow that no one could possibly despise
And the only reason behind my sighs...

I know the little things that make him laugh
I know how he looks when his day was rough
I know when he's just acting all tough
And I know that I'm not the one he'll love

To him I am probably invisible
Someone replaceable and dispensable
But for me...
He's the only one I ever see

I notice every tiny detail that he is
Those little things that make me feel like this
If only he fell for my smile like I did for his
Then everything would be in a state of bliss

He's the reason I wrote this, my inspiration
To think it all started when he smiled at my direction
And ever since that instance
I started *loving him from a distance
On the verge of getting there
I ALMOST made it...
 May 2015 Emily Rowe
epictails
words ****
tightening the noose on the neck
stabbing  anyone in their safest places
firing invisible bullets in chests

hate stays at the corners of death
while you are in front of it
shooting arrows aimed at the heart
laced with spoken disdain
cowardly commentaries turned solemn eulogies

he falls to eternal silence
his pained voice echoes in you forever
you walked him to his grave
quietly, convincingly
...

it' getting dark
in your disturbed slumbers, his dying face waits,
uttering that it's now his turn
to bring you to your grave
 Feb 2015 Emily Rowe
SG Holter
We have a thousand poems for
Every one of your bombs.
With each act of bloodthirst
And slaughter, we respond with
The force of volumes on peace.

Heaven; a holier word than Hell.
One birth overshines a
Hundred deaths.
Cowards wound.
Heroes heal.

Poets create. You cause
A thousand tears with every bullet.
Well, we compose oceans of comfort
In your wake.
Our ink overpowers your lead.

We have a thousand poems
For every one of your bombs.
You are the bringers of death to
The flesh. We are the armour
Of the soul.
My sympathies to the people of Denmark after the terrorist acts this weekend.

— The End —