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nobody tells you
about how deserts
are the most painful place
you will ever go
about how the nothingness
will ravage you  
and lick your bones.
about how your eyes bleed
after the tears disappear.
they don’t tell you.
that the desert
is the real danger
that sneaks in
after the storm.
it steals your hope
and grinds your soul
to dust,
to dust.
to join the other grains
and blow through
the never ending nothing
of your own hollow soul.
this goes out to everyone who says they don’t have depression because they “aren’t sad”. honey, you’ve been sad so long all your tears are gone and that is just as valid.
we began from the way
you looked at me.
familiarity became the way
you breathed,
heavy under my sheets.
please remember
your heart beat.
once i leave,
the in between
& the distance
from you to me
will make it
easier to breathe
because home is anywhere
i can finally be me.
emily mikkelsen Sep 2018
chemically imbalanced.
these two words
made up all of me.
my whole personality
defined by this one thing.
they call it anxiety
it takes away your sleep
it tears down your dreams
it makes you think
everything is a bomb
waiting to explode
a disaster
waiting to unfold.
a live wire
in my bones
making its home
in my soul.
a part of me
never apart from me
i lost myself
in anxiety’s causalities.
the cure came in an orange bottle
with a child safe lid
at first the pills were white
tiny little circles
burrowing in the creases of my palm
smooth down my throat
healing that tasked like chalk.
the pills are sunshine yellow now
smiling up at me
carrying the end
of my disease.
emily mikkelsen Aug 2018
i got older again
not any wiser though,
just a little bit sadder.
emily mikkelsen Jul 2018
I got a little older,
learned a lesson or two,
like how loving someone
could never be as poetic
as I wanted it to.
like how nothing
would ever be as poetic
as I wanted it to.
how can I accept
that the miracle of love
isn’t really a miracle at all?
how can I wrap myself
in someone’s arms
when I know
that there isn’t any sort
of poetic loving involved?
how do I unlearn
the romantic thoughts
that taught me
about the fireworks,
the butterflies,
and the fluttering fingers
in the dark.
and accept that
maybe kissing
won’t be as spiritual as I thought.
maybe it’s really just a mouth on mine.
how do I unlearn my innocent heart
who lulled me into a false sense of hope
for a lover who would call
the way my body moves
a lover who would feel
the poetry
in every word
I spoke in the dark.
emily mikkelsen Jul 2018
and at that moment I knew:
I would chase God to the end of the earth,
peering into every stranger’s soul
looking for a piece of worship.  

I would chase grace
to the edge of the world
searching for a bit to steal
and a wound to heal.

I would chase peace
to the edge of the world
letting the wind *******
into a new place to
find myself.

I would chase love
to the edge of the the world.
or maybe,
I wouldn’t.
because before I found the end of the world
I found that slow piano songs
and holding someone’s hand
don’t repair my broken heart
like I thought they would.

I will chase God
to the edge of the earth
until I’m no longer afraid
of an unfamiliar place
and the lack
of a hand to hold.
i want to leave this town so bad but my deepest desire is also my worst nightmare
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