Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Emily Joyce Aug 6
If you must tell a lie, do so well -
Lies likely fall apart
Often crumbling due to bumbling
A speakers deadly demise
My passion is the lonely lie
Lone creates shine
A lie must deliver cleverly
Or all would align -
A poetic imitation of Emily Dickinson's "Tell all the truth but tell it slant" I did for my poetry class.
Emily Joyce Oct 2018
“Are you mad at me?”
Stare at the words. Will asking make it worse?
“Are you mad at me?”
Press send. Or delete.
“Are you mad at me?”
............... Send. Sent. Now to wait.
“Are you mad at me?”
It’s been ten minutes. Has it been seen yet?
No.
Anxiety.
“Are you mad at me?”
30 minutes. What about now?
No.
Anxiety. My chest feels tight and...
breathe.
“Are you mad at me?”
It’s been 45 minutes. Surely by now...
No.
Something large has taken up residence in my rib cage and it’s hard to breathe. My anxiety has been joined by doubt and self hate.
“Are you mad at me?”
They’re ignoring me. I know it. They know what this does to me. They know.
“Are you mad at me?”
1 hour.
My skin itches and crawls. My nails demand blood as they scratch. The weight in my chest has turned violent.
“Are you mad at me?”
1 hour. 30 minutes.
My heart is trying to escape the storm within and I can feel it banging on my ribs demanding exit. They’re ignoring me. But what did I do?
“Are you mad at me?”
Does the punishment fit the crime?
Emily Joyce Aug 2018
Sometimes I look up into the sky and feel myself disappear.
I want to return to the the stars, live among the cosmos
Explore every black hole and feel the warmth of the lingering sun
Weave through the asteroid belts and get lost in an everlasting void
I want to cup every star in my hands and whisper
“You’re beautiful”
Because even though I’m sure they know they are,
that they bring a light to my life I had no idea I needed before I first set my sights on them,
it’s still a nice thing to hear.
I need to feel the weightlessness and freedom only the galaxy can offer
I
I look up into the sky and feel myself disappear.
But I never get far
No matter how hard I try or how much I long to be a part of that great expanse
  I am no star and I do not belong within the sky.
Could have also written "I am no star and I have no place within the sky" but i couldn't decide what i liked better. Also, surprise I'm back.
Emily Joyce May 2018
Beware of strangers online
that's what you've always been taught
Yet look at you now
Was it all for naught?
Be careful of those who wish to harm
They'll seem nice at first and later raise alarm.
Emily Joyce Feb 2018
It will find you
Somehow the loudest, alone in bed
Summoning all those voices in your head
Thinking isn’t bad
Overthinking, though, is deadly
Open the window and stare at the stars
Wonder if they can feel this all the way on Mars
Has it found anyone else
This burning, bright violence
Silence.
Emily Joyce Jan 2018
They can be brought on by guilt or desperation
said in quiet whispers behind closed doors
screamed from rooftops where everyone will hear you, you hope everyone will hear you
dragged out by suffocating pressure or freely given like the air that fills your lungs
hard and soft and all places in between
spoken with sharp edges and lashing tongues
with warmth like hot chocolate after playing in the snow
they can bring pain or joy
fickle things
I'm sorry                                                                                
                                                                      I love you
It was never you                                                          
                                             Always you
Confessions.
Emily Joyce Oct 2017
I am a pumpkin.
I am new and young and happy. The grass is comforting and cool. I spend my days lounging in the warm sun surrounded by other pumpkins.
I am a pumpkin.
The grass is changing but I am still comfortable.  The sun isn't as warm but my company makes it all okay.
I am a pumpkin.
I have been taken from what I knew. Everything is different and I'm scared. Why has this happened?
I am a pumpkin.
Until I'm not.
I am a pumpkin but something is wrong.
My head hurts.
It's gone.
I am a pumpkin.
I feel wrong.
I can feel you removing my seeds.
I know I can't stop you but please, be gentle.
I am a pumpkin.
I am a pumpkin.
I am... hurting.
The carving is sharp and mechanical.
It's excruciating.
It's okay. It'll be over soon.
Smile.
Smile? Why?
I am a pumpkin.
I am a pumpkin.
I am a pumpkin no more.
I am a jack-o-lantern.
I am changed.
I am sore and in pain.
I am bitter but concealed.
I am a jack-o-lantern.
Watch me wither.
Watch me rot.
Watch me smile.
About my experience growing up and having Endometriosis.
Next page