Emmaline E

Emmaline E Jul 2013

My eyes snaked,
sidewound, aware, wary.
Wretched wishes do not plague me now,
hopeless as they were in the empty cataclysm.
Yet, with this newfound freedom, flayed and
fragile, fumigating the baby breaths from my lips,
I still feel a sudden descent;
I do not trust my senses to allow me peace,
as I admire a cumulonimbus thunderhead, the sky turquoise through
the windshield, and the concoction of summer
sky tantrums in the afternoon and the kiss of stale air conditioned
zephyr propagate my subconscious, and,
thus, I have yielded to razor-edged heart shards again,
even after I pledged to leave them on the cold, tile floor.

the road to recovery, that is. even after promising myself I have moved on, a curious atmospheric sensation can bring me back to a time when we were one. Although I detest it, but it is one of the most bittersweet and curious romantic things I have ever experienced. I was aching for a pencil to write this as it occurred. It is just so...devastatingly unprecedented.

Emmaline E Jul 2013

Fragments of A Favorite Memory

Some deserts look so much like the ocean floor.
And we were laughing but I wasn't sure why
and the dusk sky was the same indigo as the sweater I wore
when you kissed me so softly in the back of my car with rose petal lips
as we took refuge from the hail with the other drivers.
And worms sprouted from the loam, brown like the earth.
I found an unused chapstick,
and I remember the wrapper was green,
but not the green of your eyes, and definitely not the same green in mine.
I still don't know why it was there, or why you'll never be again.
And I'll add those to the list that includes the way
your eyes were full of cypress trees.

just reminiscing with personal truths I suppose

Emmaline E Jul 2013

Looking through Rose-Colored Lenses

Perhaps all I missed
was lightning-quick to some,
wrapped in a glance of derision.
But in my gaze, you were
chimerical , wonderful,
the one to complete the puzzle.
Now I see the ragged edges
and frayed ends of your strings
and wonder how I ever thought
you'd be the one to tie things together.
The colors slinked from
my tear ducts in striations and I knew
I knew
all along you should have appeared grey.

Emmaline E Jun 2013

Hindsight Musings

I remember
there were nights when I found it
incredibly novel
for someone to tell me, "goodnight."
And now it is as if
you have corrupted
me with sorrowful expectation.

I will never know whether
my name is afforded a second glance
by you.

a bit of peripatetic writing tonight~

Emmaline E Jun 2013

Untitled

The moor was dense
But the film was loose
and my blistered heel
broke the surface
and paralleled your cry,
ringing.
reverberation was never so kind in
this fog,
and it swallowed you.
Mist licked my open eyes.

Inspired by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Homes: The Adventure of the Priory School

Emmaline E Jun 2013

Your Cheekbones

Light Darkness,
Soft Shadows,
Brilliant Undertones-
Flush with Flesh.

Dramatic
Elegant
Raw

Trying to go for a more minimalistic approach as many of my poems are quite rambly.

Emmaline E Jun 2013

View Me As You Will

I am not the ladder with the creaking rungs upon which your dusty feet may find stability,

nor am I the svelte key to dissipate any and all resistance to your god-given right to happiness,

nor can I entice you successfully from all the obstacles you have constructed
precisely for someone to lead you through.

And in all of this you are mistaking my momentary passing

for a longing glance in your direction.

Like the bile in my throat, all the Valentine's hearts and roses on anniversaries that
have been force-fed to you from an early age ring out

as you call y name, your voice cloaked in what you thought was love.

and I hear only the clang of my heels upon the pavement.