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emmie cosgrove Nov 2018
When I wrote about love the pages of my notebook would turn purple and blue

A mixture of tears and ink stains, smudged words about how ex-lovers caused my core to rot like an apple decomposing in a pile of compost.

That’s how I felt.

Buried beneath the dirt, stuck in the ground being eaten away by the past.

Because whenever I loved, and I mean truly loved I couldn’t see the ugly truth from the lens of my rose-tinted glasses.

It’s funny how one smile can leave you so blinded.

The rush, the thrill, chasing your crush, the desire to be wanted, you don’t realise it can lead to so much hurt.

But you learn.

There is heartbreak which I think we all know, or all will know.

I didn’t know that people could pluck you out of the crowd because you remind them of that one person who broke them so they use you as a substitute, though you’re not quite the original

Or being a **** toy, a human doll, there for display but never to be heard,

Maybe you got shot with constant insults because apparently that’s how some people flirt and compassion doesn’t clench your partner's thirst anymore.

When you look at it from afar the romance seems so pure, a Hollywood blockbuster next best seller, featuring Hugh Grant.

Then you take a closer look, you see the forced smiles, you hear the sighs and you notice the tears clouding in their eyes.

You try and hit rewind because you know there are good parts but your remotes broken and keep's jumping to the scenes that scarred you deep inside.

Can love ever be beautiful if all you’ve known is a heavy heart weighed down by the ghosts who lie locked away in your old diaries?

Nothing is ever going to be perfect but that doesn’t mean it has to leave you covered in scratches.

The damage doesn’t fade you just become used to it, however, all my damage gave me knowledge
I now know how demons play you

And that I refuse to let them beat me next time they feel like a game

I never even lost to them, they just convinced me they had won, grabbed the trophies and walked away

But I now know what I want love to be for me and what love should be

Those in my memories, the ones who broke me

Walk upon this Earth like a plague, gathering up souls in the palms of their hand

Feasting on the pain of others for their own personal gain

A twisted hunt, a search for power

Words will spread like wildfire and we will all know to sprinkle a salt around us next time these demons dare get close

Their time is over.

Because I also know what it is to love someone who is human

Who gives me that same sensation that I feel when reading inside beneath a pile of blankets whilst rain lightly dances and taps upon the window glass

That rush of comfort you get when you fall into your bed after a long day and can finally rest

When you’re with a group of friend and can’t stop laughing over the dumbest things, tears roll down your cheeks but they’re tears hand sewn by happiness

Or that random night out where you end up on the most spontaneous adventure and just lose yourself in the moment of surprise and when you think back to that day, you know that it is these moments that keep you alive.

And when these sensations, the comfort and glorious moments come to an end, the pain isn’t ugly, it’s more of an ache, to go back to these times and re-live these times all over again.

And you know you can seek them out and relive them, just maybe with a different coloured blanket, a new mattress, a new group of friends.

But the same feelings are all still there, and though your heart has stitches deep within it, it is this type of love that vanquishes the demons and helps you mend.
emmie cosgrove Oct 2018
I ate a cheese string this morning
I looked in the fridge, empty again
The thought of pouring milk onto cereal was too much of an effort
I wanted something already there
I peeled it out of its ugly packaging, an illustrated version of it plastered with a grin
I bit into it and chewed, it tasted like its packaging, plastic and grim I ate it with no grin
Yet I finished it and mourned longing for a taste more real, far less artificial
But there was nothing, unless I made something, but eating that cheese string had taken a bit of life out of me
I ate a cheese string the next morning
I looked in the fridge, empty again
The thought of pouring milk onto cereal was too much of an effort
I wanted something already there
It’s forced smile beamed up at me, welcoming me a familiarity
I bit into it, chewed, still despised the taste of plastic on my tongue
But I still didn’t have the energy to make something yum
The vicious cycle began, every morning, a cheese string in my hand
I had grown used to the fakeness of the taste and how processed and hard these strings of cheese are
I couldn’t bring myself to make anything decent that I knew I secretly craved and I did pray that I could bring myself to say no to a cheese string one day
A cheese string to me is like an edible depression
Tasteless, gross, plastic and fake something you know you need to escape
But you get used to the ugly, it becomes a daily routine, you want to break out of it
But are not quite sure how you see, you don’t quite have the energy even just to create something as simple but tasty as strawberries and cream.
idk man cheese strings are like an edible depression ? so i wrote this
emmie cosgrove Sep 2018
Take me back to the night
When we became one
With the streets
And the city lights
We flew through the air
Forgetting the sorrows
That this would be over by tomorrow
For we got lost in the moment
But we didn’t want to find our way back
For being lost in that moment
Was the best feeling I’ve ever had
emmie cosgrove Aug 2018
I wake up in the morning

Check my messages

Still no replies-

I walk into a room filled with people

Go to speak

But I'm greeted with silences-

I close my eyes and think back to you

Even though you ruined me

It was still nice to have


Now I walk along these roads

And a glance from a stranger

Is one of the few things that makes me feel less alone

Where did everyone I love go?
emmie cosgrove Aug 2018
Three or four summers ago
Childhood friends to become something more
You waited patiently for me,
To be charmed by your humour
And musicality
It happened in the moment
On your blue and gold sofa
I thought we had something
As our lips intertwined
We lost track of time
But you used me
Saw I was broken
Abused me
First kiss
Oh how I miss
Your twisted excuses
To try and
***** me,
**** me,
get in my pants
But you burnt out quicker than a cigarette
On a windy day
And this poem is the last bit of smoke you have burning
And now I shall stomp you out
Your last bit of light
First kiss
First miss

emmie cosgrove Jun 2018
The lacy touch of your fingers upon my *******
The soft touch of your smooth lips upon mine
Now lay between the empty bed sheets
Stained with time
The spilt tears
The endless fears
The lacy touch of your fingers upon her *******
The soft touch of your smooth lips against her hips
Now lay covered under the fresh bed sheets
Stained with your crime
Was I nothing more but a doll to play with?
Some sort of toy that you could just dispose of as time went on?
I looked into your eyes
I thought I saw your soul
Now I hope that she can see the truth;
You pick us out at random like a raffle ticket
And if the prize you receive does not please you

Then the exchange shall be soon
emmie cosgrove Jun 2018
She felt like she was on ecstasy

Whenever he was next to her

He felt like he was high-

She made him float

They became addicted to each other

For their company to one another was

Endless nights of euphoria
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