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 Jan 2014 Emma-willow
August
Bittersweet is the moon that dips below it's fate
Sinking into itself behind the horizon of the lake
Radiance of the sun shines momentarily on it's face
To light up the dark of it's visage, then it falls away
Amara Pendergraft 2014
It’s a shame that it is ending
It’s like I dream, so weakening
I guess I slept too long
I woke only to find you gone

It’s a shame I lost a friend
Broken things are hard to mend
I guess you have no need
No hunger I can feed

No one so lonely goes to sleep
Their eyes won’t close and they can’t eat
And who am I to suppose
That you do any one of those?

It cures the heart of the disease
It drowns every need to please
I guess you did me one good
I did care way more than I should

No one so lonely runs away
They cling, hold tightly until you stay
And who am I to suppose
That you’d do anyone of those?

I guess I’m optimistic

I guess I’m hopeful

I guess I’m just friendly, and you don’t need a friend

I guess

I guess

I guess

The end
Watching more attentively than ever.
Sudden yet predicted change,
every second daunting.
What comes next is known
yet unknown,
clear
yet obscure.
As the hand spins
the vision blurs.
What comes next?
Another unprocessed thought?
Another tick in time?
Drawing so close you can hear it whisper,
feel it's swift hand,
taste it bitter.
Time goes on without a stutter
and here we are acting like we control it.
 Jan 2014 Emma-willow
Christina
If I am dreaming
May I never wake
Or end this bliss
For heaven's sake

Could this be real?
I feel your presence
Your love, your warmth
This never-ending pleasance

If this reality is a lie
At the night's end
The moon shall sigh
To say goodbye
To such a beautiful sight
 Dec 2013 Emma-willow
echo
.
the best part's when
the best part's yet
to come
.
(& life is wonderful)
10w
 Dec 2013 Emma-willow
B
i tried to quit ****
but each morning i wake up from sleep
it's calling me

i walk through the house
and say
today i'll be alright without it
and i'm drowsy
make some coffee
have a cigarette
take a shower
and figure
that this will be the day
i don't pull the lighter trigger
and watch the flame ignite the green
make it turn orange
smoke whip down
around the corner
and up and under
into my mouth
down south
and back out

then i decide
that it's time
to give it a try
because i did all i was supposed to do
with my day
that i could have
to make it better

and then i feel real real light
like a feather
and i start feeling clever
and inspired
and optimistic again

it's like i have a new friend
each day
he greets me again and again

so i guess ill quit smoking
the day he dies
which in my eyes
will probably be longer than me
which makes the answer
to how long itll take me to quit
forever

that's called a soul mate
a life partner
and even though i've known him
for years and years
i feel like i learn something new
every time he blesses me
he's so kind
that bud of mine
 Dec 2013 Emma-willow
LP S
It's 2am in December and my windows are all open.
Every
one.
Heat off.
Clothes off.
Trying to remember what it's like to feel..

I'd smoke another Newport, but I've smoked so many
that it hurts to inhale normal air,
especially the crisp winter air
that's pouring into my apartment,
sleep seems futile..

There's an empty bottle of cheap pinot lying next to me,
a half-finished PBR, from the thirty I bought myself
and I haven't thought of you in a while.
Hello there...

My mind wanders to that alleyway in the heart of Columbus,
dark and deserted,
the sounds of lovers off in the distance,
my boyfriend calling my name, searching
but I can't hear him.
I can only hear you...

You see love, I haven't thought of you,
haven't let myself back to that place
because I met a nice boy,
who told me nice things,
asked nicely if he could touch me, in nice places
before he did so,
and it was nice...

So I waited and he waited,
took things slowly for once,
convinced him it was worth it,
that I, was worth it,
so when he told me, it was beautiful
and I told him right back.
it was beautiful,
"I love you"...

And don't you dare question me, love
for I love him,
because he thinks I'm wonderful,
hasn't seen the scary parts that I'd showed you,
doesn't believe I'm as broken as I say,
He tells me I'm perfect...

But yet,
that night in Columbus, Ohio still haunts me,
the night you rode a bus for sixteen hours to get to,
that moment we're screaming at each other,
I'm telling you that I hate you, and I know you've never cared
why are you even here? I HATE you...!

You kiss me.

Kiss me...
Like your sole purpose in life... was to kiss me.
Right then.
Right there.
Like you'd been waiting forever..

You kiss me
like you were created by God
for the final moment
where your lips would dance with mine,
and fireworks would fly
from your fingertips
as they brushed across my cheeks,
turning tears into vapor,
unspoken truths into song,
longing into love,

you kissed me.

Kissed me, and saved me from being stone..

That night, you told me everything I'd ever longed for you to tell me.
Told me about your terrifying family,
and the reasons you were better off being alone.
I wept into your arms as you told me you loved me,
that you had given me every single thing you could,
how you were sorry it wasn't enough.
And I told you all the sad things I'd lived through,
all the boys who never learned my name,
all the nights I'd never had a home,
the day I wished I was dead..

And you stroked my hair, told me not to cry,
wiped the tears from my cheeks,
while I told you that all you had to do was ask,
that I'd come back for you.
All you had to do was tell me to come back, for you.

And that night,
in that tiny apartment, 700 miles from home
you made love to me,
kissed me softly,
whispered sweet nothings until I fell asleep on your chest...
You became home, my love,
You were my home.



The next day,
you got on a Greyhound bus back to where you came from.
Didn't look back.
And I went back to that little apartment,
never looked back down that alleyway,
and once more,
became stone.
 Dec 2013 Emma-willow
Heather
I find beauty no longer,
in status and in wealth
because what could be more beautiful than life itself?

on the inside I'm hidden,
trying to block others out
calm on the surface while my insides shout

past dreams, they surround me,
written on my walls
but do I have the will to guide myself, or will I simply fall

"I'll start tomorrow"
that is my catch phrase.
yet since I've actually dreamt, it has been days.
My spirit feels along with the trees
shaking off the brittle, dead leaves
They blow away in an Autumn breeze
baring ourselves for that winter freeze
Shy, always, to natures dormancy tease
but the cycle will start again, soon, with ease.
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