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Emma Marke Oct 2015
It wouldn’t be until the next morning that I would find them stained on my skin. I stand in front of my closet mirror and stare at black and blue. I lightly dance my fingertips across my naked skin. I couldn’t remember how each one had happened, but each brought back moments of the night before.

Short breaths.
Foggy windows.
Hands in hair.
Lips on neck.

I turn my thoughts back to the mirror and reach for my shirt. And that’s when I see the long, red scar traced down my side.

And that’s when I think maybe you aren’t so good for me.
Emma Marke Oct 2015
The moonlight made its way through the blinds. It’s the only source of light in the bedroom. His head is on the pillow while mine is rested in my hand, propped up looking down on him. His chin tilts up, dark eyes looking for any signal to stop coming closer.
I don’t give him one.

His tired fingers lightly trace slow figure eights on my shoulder. We lay breathless in comfortable silence. I feel his eyes on me, taking in my silhouette. He moves closer, looking for any reason not to.
I don’t give him one.
Emma Marke Jul 2015
"That's one of the many reasons I was attracted to him. When he really wanted something he went out and got it."

And that's how I broke my own heart. I realized that he hadn't gone out and gotten me back.

He didn't want me anymore.
July 26 2015
Emma Marke Jun 2015
I didn't think about where his hands were, or about how they shouldn’t be where they were. I wasn’t thinking of the time and the fact that my curfew was ticking closer and closer. I wasn’t thinking about how this boy’s backseat was so uncomfortable compared to yours.
All I was thinking of, while his hands explored and time was ticking, was how you’re with her.
And that was all it took.
  Jun 2015 Emma Marke
I was driving down an old road this morning, one hand clenched to the handle of a porcelain coffee cup, one hand clenched to the wheel; digging my nails into the rubber. I've always hated driving, it was always a better place to be sitting in the passenger seat, your hand enfolded in mine. Im rolling through stop signs hoping maybe a car will hit their brakes a moment too late. Each road line painted a bright yellow, the kind that reminded me of a sun we used to watch rise off the balcony of our house. I didn't want to think about it too much, it would of brought me back to a better time and place than now but they always told me to keep my eyes on the road. It was easy to do until I passed by this field of yellow daisies, the kind that were printed on the spring sheets we'd wrap ourselves in on the mornings that rain kissed the roof. The kind that decorated the church on the day that I made a promise on forever. A forever that should of lasted longer than sickness can control.
The golden sun grazed it's rays over the old barn where we once sat in hay bails and counted constellations. The rays were blinding, but so was the memory that lit up with them. The yellow dress your mother wore on the day we lay you down 6 feet too deep. The day a rock became your welcome mat. The day I couldn't find the right way to say goodbye.
I was driving this morning. I'm laying in a hospital bed now. I'm sorry that the yellow lights of that truck drew me in. Somehow I saw you smiling at me through them. As I lay on the pavement in pools of red, the yellow lines of the road by my side, heartbeat coming down till all I can hear is the softness of your voice; I finally felt like maybe this is the only way home.
Emma Marke Jun 2015
"Can we please still be friends?"
I think for a moment
'Everyone says that'
"But I mean it"
'Yes. Ok.'

I’ll just add that to the list of lies you told me.
Emma Marke Jun 2015
He turned the steering wheel
around and around
Making the car go
around and around
Sending my thoughts
around and around
Until only one thought in my head remained

Kiss Him.

My head screamed
So I tugged on his shirt sleeve
He turned his head
And I kissed him.
While the steering wheel
The car
My thoughts
His hands
Went around and around
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