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emmaline Mar 2014
You loved her with your body all night but didn't know who she was in the morning.
You even turned the lights out before turning
Your hands in her hair but they're actually touching her mind
Your fingers tracing her skin but you can't even see the lines they're leaving behind
Your arms around her waist and she tries to make it seem like forever.
But it's only one night and she can't seem to bring all of her thoughts together.
A single touch, its like a single drop in a perfectly still pond and even you can't stop the ripples from making waves.
You think they'd wear out by now but they've been crashing around her for days.
Oh and you're touching her, touching her, and she's trying to hear words but she can't even make out a sound.
Your waves they're splashing her
S p l a s h i n g her
And she thought she could drink them but she drowned.
emmaline Jan 2014
Dog
White.
White's what you saw when you looked at that dog, running away from it's home.
Maybe because the dog was white or maybe because the dog didn't have any color.
A home has colors.
When your mom does the laundry after she tucks you in at night
There's a rainbow.
Green grass stains on your new white pants and
Blue for the marker you accidentally got on your sheets that you
Kinda forgot to mention until she put you to bed that night
Red for the blood stains from when you tripped fleeing from your angry father on your way out the door
So now you're a dog because
You don't have any more colors or
Because your mom is gone and you ran away from home or
You've just always been white and that's just what you saw, right?
I don't know anymore.
emmaline Jan 2014
okay so it was one of those nights where you're breathing but you aren't sure you're really there and
yeah at first i remember calling you.
your car pulled up and i met you outside on the street
the first thing i saw was myself in your hazy eyes and your new tattoo
so i started to yell, i just needed to take out all this hurt and anger
and yeah you did need that cigarette
i hated cigarettes
and thats when you said i should kiss you
we were just sitting there and
i've never tasted anything so freeing
gah i hate those **** cigarettes that go in the mouth that gave me air for breathing
i remember seeing
myself in your eyes again
WHAT
just happened
there you are grabbing me shoving me against the car (i think you stopped smoking)
PRESSING YOUR BODY AGAINST MINE LIKE THERE IS NO MORE SPACE IN THE WORLD BUT HERE
MOVING YOUR TONGUE AROUND IN MY MOUTH LIKE A FRANTIC GOLD MINER SEARCHING FOR THEIR TREASURE IN THE CORNERS OF MY MOUTH AND
SPELLING OUT YOUR FAVORITE WORDS
THAT MEANT SO MUCH MORE WITHOUT SOUND and
****
i never tasted so many colors and saw so many sounds and heard so many flavors in my life till i found a bit of heaven between your fingers and pushed against the palms of your hands and
i didn't think it meant a night i'd remember for the rest of my life but all i ever see in the mirror
is that i remember
seeing myself in your eyes that night
emmaline Dec 2013
Time is something that is always changing, yet it always moves at a constant pace. My story includes such a small period of time. In one day, there are twenty-four hours, and somewhere in those few hours of January 15th, 2011, my life changed in the blink of an eye. Within seconds, someone I love stopped breathing. It changed everything. But, my story begins a few hours before that.
Wake up. I always have to tell myself to wake up. I wake up and it is a beautiful Saturday. I walk into the living room of my house, where the sun is shining bright through all the windows and I feel like it is going to be a good day. I usually wake up on the weekend home alone, but this time I walk around until I find my dad and my little brother, Phillip.
Dad: “Phillip and I are going to a Valdosta State basketball game later today, if you would like to come.”
I immediately think of my best friend James. James is a part of my family. He got along with my dad and brother better than I did. The basketball game with them would be a lot easier to endure if James went along. He is the older brother I never had.
I pick up my phone and call James, to invite him to join us. He doesn’t answer. James always answers. His phone goes straight to voicemail. I remember a time in the past that I called James with a stupid boy dilemma. James was in the middle of football camp, but he called a timeout. He picked up the phone for me then. I am always James’ first priority, so something seems wrong. I call Drew, James’ best friend, and his phone goes straight to voicemail as well. Something definitely seems wrong. I try to convince myself that I’m overthinking. I always overthink and I always worry too much, so this could be nothing. James is just busy. He’ll call me back later.
An hour or two pass by without response from either James or Drew. As I am cleaning up my room trying to keep my mind busy, I receive a text message from my friend Emily.
Emily: “What’s wrong with James?”
Emmaline (me): “What are you talking about?”
Emily: “I see on Facebook that many people are writing on James’ wall, saying that they are praying for him. Why are people praying for him? What happened?”
Little did she know that I was asking myself the same questions. What in the world is going on!?
Emmaline (me): “Umm, I’m not sure. He hasn’t been answering my calls. I’ll try to find out.”
James was a huge part of the church community. He was the first person that brought me to the church I’ve been attending for the past three years. He was a mentor to me; if it weren’t for James I would not have found the faith that has saved me. After those texts messages, I decided to call someone from the church to see if they knew what was going on with him. Mackenzie answered my call.
Mackenzie: “James and Drew went out duck hunting this morning at a place called Ocean Pond, and James is missing. Drew is fine, but he doesn’t know where James is.”

My heart immediately dropped to my chest. The gut feeling I had been experiencing all day that something was wrong was rapidly increasing, and I suddenly couldn’t keep still.  
My thought processes jumped to visualize duck hunting. I thought, when you go duck hunting, it is a little different from hunting ground animals like deer. When you hunt ducks, you spend the entire time on a boat. You don’t go missing on a small boat. James wasn’t playing hide-and-seek. James being missing meant that he was lost somewhere in the water. The odds weren’t looking very good. Maybe I’m worrying too much, but I’m being rational. Right? I put my phone down and slowly slid out of my chair onto the floor. I lay on the floor for hours, crying. My brother came in from outside and just stared at me. My chest was on fire; I have never felt so much pain in my life. The amount of emotional pain transformed to a physical pain that I felt in the pit of my stomach. The sun that made me happy when I first woke up now began to burn my eyes. I felt like I was sinking, but in reality the only person sinking was my best friend, drowning in icy water.
When I could finally stop crying enough to talk, I call my mom. My mom was not home this weekend; she was at the beach with some of her good friends from college. She did not take the news as heavily as I did.
Mom: “He’s just sitting somewhere in the marsh where the water is really shallow. Someone will find him. He’ll be fine, I know he will.”
I begin to feel somewhat better. I tell myself that this does not have to be a death sentence. James could be fine. I decide to call Mackenzie from church again and invite her and her mom to my house to keep me company while we wait for news.
Hours and hours pass by, yet still no news comes. The church and community decides to hold a prayer session at a local park for all the people worried about James. Mackenzie, her mom and I drive out to the park. Hundreds of people were at the park. All of them were there for James. All of us stood in a circle, teary-eyed, and prayed. I have never seen my community come together like that. Rival schools and teammates, people old, young, and teenage. Teachers, preachers, friends, athletes, fathers, mothers, so many people were at the park for James.
We went around in the circle and each person told their story of how much James meant to them. James was a brother to many. He was a mentor, a friend, a shoulder to cry on, a pal to laugh with. James was the one person that convinced a girl to graduate from high school. James was the friendly face that ate lunch with a boy that was alone and contemplating suicide. I had no idea that James meant so much to people other than me.
All it took was seconds, maybe minutes for James to drown. The water was below freezing. The gear that he was wearing was built to weigh him down in order to be able to wade in shallow waters. In deeper waters, he would surely and quickly sink. He drowned quickly, and within seconds he stopped breathing. However, it took search and rescue a month to recover his body. Days of worry and prayer turned into weeks. I had to return to school and try to go on with my life, as if I didn’t feel like it was all falling apart.

Finally, one crisp February morning, a search dog found my James’ body.

I was in my Advanced Placement Environmental Science class, and my phone rang from a number of different people. I went to the bathroom to return a call and found out that someone found my best friend’s dead body. I knew it wasn’t smart to hold on to any kind of hope that he was alive, but knowing he was actually dead made the situation suddenly very real. I tried to return to class, but I ended up sitting right beside the door, crying harder than ever. I had to go out to Ocean Pond, where I spent most of my time for the past month watching divers search for him. I had to go out there and see it.
By the time I arrived at the site, there was nothing left to see. James’ body had been recovered and I would never see him again. All that was left was a teary funeral, and abrupt good-byes that I wasn’t ready to give. To this day I don’t know how to say good-bye to James. I visit his grave, and I don’t know how to leave the picture of his face.
Losing someone you so deeply love so quickly is probably one of the most excruciating human experiences. I am so thankful that James left behind such a beautiful story, and such a powerful legacy. The first day I met James, he told me, “Hey girl. You know, I love you. I really do. I would take a bullet for you.” When someone says those kinds of things to you without even knowing you for twenty-four hours, it feels strange. But, James knew time meant everything. He knew that all it takes is minutes, seconds, to change someone’s life forever.
The thing that is so astonishing about James’ story, is that he understood how quickly everything can change. When James was alive, a fellow student of his died in a motorcycle crash. James was devastated that he had not reached out to this boy before it was too late. That night, in a note on Facebook entitled “The Clock is Ticking,” James wrote a short paragraph that showed the depth of his understanding of life. He wrote, “Take time to love someone. Today, Tomorrow, For the rest of your life. Because when that unexpected day comes that they pass on, you'll be left wondering what you could've done better. How you could have made them feel more welcome, and show that you do care for them. Don't wait until it's too late like I did. Show the love that Jesus has for you to everyone you see. Let your heart break for what breaks His. Christ is enough. Let Him show you life. You never know who He may touch through you. It is so sad that it takes a tragedy like this to comprehend how our days are numbered. Only He knows. Keep your faith in Him. He will bless you beyond belief. Our job is right now. This very second. So often, God gives me a little nudge towards someone.. and I put it off until the next day.. and then the next and then the next. Stop stalling. God put us on this earth for HIS glory. Not ours.. and so many times, the things I do always point back to me and my stupid self righteousness. So do something with me. Everyone. If this just touches one person, I will have done my job. Don't stall. Judgement is a heart beat away.”
emmaline Oct 2013
Today's the first time I've allowed your image to play across my field of vision in a while.
I let myself remember the smile that made me come alive and I'm rotting.
I was always taught not to trust the things that were unknown but the only words I ever believed were those you spoke to me in a language I never knew existed.
I studied you like I did for all my tests in high school. I memorized what I thought was important. I looked at the main points on the outside;
I never connected the dots.
I didn't analyze the deeper meaning of those bolded words in your textbook.
I wonder why I was so shocked when I failed the test.
I've taken plenty of these tests before. Just about all of them are the same.
You were just one of those teachers that knew how to make me feel like I would pass.
That deep, red ink you used to grade my paper matched the fire in your eyes when you handed it back to me, as well as the blood spilled now across my skin, yet again.
That half-smile written across your face
I'm looking at it from in the grave
So it looks more like a frown, to me.
emmaline Sep 2013
We say things like "farewell" and "goodbye" but a lot of times we don't actually fare well and the bye isn't good.
This bye isn't good and I'm not faring well.
I've said goodbye so many times now I don't know what goodbye means anymore but I think it means that this is the end and I won't see you again.
I don't really want this to be the end because it feels like there's a fire in my eyes causing them to melt and there's a fire in my heart causing my chest to burn and it's moving down to my stomach like a *** that's starting to boil and I can't hold anything down.
I'm rarely ever at a loss for words and when I think of you the only thing I can muster up to say is I love you and I know this bye isn't very good but I'll say goodbye if that's what I'm supposed to do. They said I could visit but your face isn't quite the same when it's a picture on a grave.

Fare well.
I love you.
emmaline Sep 2013
Whenever I think of dysfunction I think of all of us together. What causes us to function is each other. We never function when we're all together.
If you looked at a picture of us you'd see fragmented faces and aching stitches holding up the frames of our smiles.
If you looked in my brother's eyes you'd see the red around the edges that tells you how much he hates it. He thinks he'd break the function if he let the blood spill down his face. He can't close his eyes, he won't blink, he won't make a mistake, he's so tired, he has to fix it, he doesn't know. He's still bleeding.
If you looked into the creases of my mother's smile you'd see that she is tired. Her smile doesn't know how to smile all the way anymore because the creases have to hold up everyone else's. They're growing weary and fading into a slant. You'd see that she's tired of holding us all together.
If you looked at the pieces of hair that fell across my father's face you'd see a few gray hairs. You'd see that nature took a few too many spins on his life and that things aren't going right anymore. His shadow is following him from underneath the ground.
If you looked at me you might say, "she looks fine."
I am fine.
I'm perfectly functionally fine in the most dysfunctional meaning of the word. I'm smiling, see?
Lies.
Lies make you appreciate the truth, but who wants a picture of a family in misery?
If we were never so broken we would never be this whole.
We never function when we're all together but we function because of each other.
We dysfunction together.
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