Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Jan 22 · 211
a short love story
we began from the way
you looked at me.
familiarity became the way
you breathed,
heavy under my sheets.
please.
please remember
your heart beat.
Jan 22 · 1.0k
gone
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.
Sep 2018 · 1.1k
pill
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.
Aug 2018 · 211
trialed
emily mikkelsen Aug 2018
i got older again
not any wiser though,
just a little bit sadder.
emily mikkelsen Jul 2018
recently
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
could ever be as poetic
as I want 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
art.
a lover who would feel
the poetry
in every word
I spoke in the dark.
Jul 2018 · 373
maybe i wouldn’t
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
Jul 2018 · 2.4k
somebody
emily mikkelsen Jul 2018
somebody once told me
there's a fire in your eyes
he told me he liked the way
I turned without goodbyes

somebody once told me
you're more beautiful than the moon
& he kissed the craters of my thighs

somebody once told me
I'll love you until this world comes undone
but I had become familiar with the taste of lies on my tongue

somebody once told me
you walk on broken hearts
then he turned on his heel, headlights piercing the dark

somebody once told me
I don't miss you anymore
  re-appearing just to slam the door.


I never said goodbye
to the one who told me
he loved the fire in my eyes.
Jul 2018 · 537
king
emily mikkelsen Jul 2018
daughter,
you are worth more than
everything the galaxy could reach
cursed with a lustful heart,
you were made with the intent of art.
once penniless and poor
you found pricelessness  
in the palms of a wise man's
open fists,
bleeding out of nailed wrists
grace without conditions
mercy you almost missed

empty you came
a hollow vase
waiting to be broken free
from your glass case.
he died for you
to give you life
to bring you peace.

a sinful disaster
waiting to quench her thirst
on his love
poured out like water,
thickened with blood.

daughter,
you aren't very pretty,
but through grace
he who died in your place,
gave you the chance
to be beautiful.
Jul 2018 · 348
lessons
emily mikkelsen Jul 2018
why are all the poems
about loving someone else?
the one thing
everyone can do,
talking about it
like it's the hardest thing
you go through.
but I know
that's not the truth,
because the hardest thing
I went through
was learning how
to love me
instead of you.
Jan 2018 · 288
: calloused :
emily mikkelsen Jan 2018
remember back to when i was 13
& how the only thing i wrote about
was that childish unrequited love.
the same metaphor
again & again.
i'm grown now,
several years older
& still trying to make my parents proud.
& i almost miss it,
the simplicity
of a youthful heart.  
mom, i don't think i remember how to love anymore.
i miss calling your eyes the sea
& knowing what everyone means
when they talk about their fluttery heartbeat.
& when people talk to me
i don't think they miss it,
the change in how i spoke.
how this used-to-be bleeding heart
froze over.
because of another woman's lover.
Jul 2017 · 1.8k
the artist's masterpiece
emily mikkelsen Jul 2017
she's got a broken smile
for a broken heart
she likes to hope
her brokenness
is a work of art
lost in herself
she cannot breathe
around him, around her.
too many people
who aren't falling apart.
a broken smile
with a broken heart
her father says
she's a work of art
Jul 2017 · 735
-
emily mikkelsen Jul 2017
-
everyone tells me that people rub shoulders a lot,
that messy feelings and broken people collide a lot
that everyone bumps into someone
from time to time
after all,
we are all just hearts
struggling to keep
our heads above the water.
but when we collided
& our hearts bumped into each other
i heard, oh hello
i have been looking for you,
all this time.

& it wasn't the same.
all those people
but most everyone wasn't a someone
to me,
except you.
because people & i rub shoulders a lot
& i have met a lot of hearts
in this messy, complicated life
but none of them
touched me
quite like you.
-
Jul 2017 · 2.6k
were
emily mikkelsen Jul 2017
you were like warm alcohol
blurry bed sheets,
comforting.
you were like scuffed sidewalk chalk
multi-colored nostalgia,
dusty.
you were like good morning kisses
but i don't wear that perfume.
May 2017 · 634
string
emily mikkelsen May 2017
cello boy,
young and sweet
he finds it hard to eat
he says
to be thin is to be beautiful

young and innocent ,
he doesn't look at me
as he curves the bow
an instrument
that sings only for him

cello boy,
he has curls
hanging in his eyes
the curve of his lips is parted
but he is hardly breathing

cello man,
sometimes i dream
entirely accidentally
of his arms around me
he plays me like
an instrument

and i would sing for him,
only him.
Apr 2017 · 4.1k
paper thin
emily mikkelsen Apr 2017
between the concrete river
& the park where the bums share a bottle
wrapped in a brown paper sack,

there is a cul-de-sac of plastic houses
holding hands & sharing manicured lawns
wooden cars that don't even make any smoke
drive down gray asphalt streets.

fathers that tell mothers they have jobs
wear down street corners sharing beers with the bums,
like they already are one.

all these paper families rubbing shoulders
until everyone has paper cuts.
going home to dinner around a table full of paper love.

suburbia is flimsy
paper towns shining white
smiling neighbors & shared lawns
paper people slowly falling apart.

couples with their tongues down each other's throats,
midnight in supermarket parking lots
dribbling beer in the backseat
they bought off the bums.  

they say,
I love you, I love you, I love you.
until she leaves for a paper husband
& he leaves for a paper wife.

now they live on two separate cul-de-sacs
with the same cutout love,
as the parents they despised.

& when they have kids one day
they will tell them
never kiss before driving,
never befriend bums,
or guzzle cheap beer in backseats,
or on park swings.
& never settle for a paper husband
or a paper wife.


remembering the love
that was flimsy,
but never paper.

100,000 miles away from where they grew up
& 3,000 miles away from each other
3 kids each & plastic houses
rubbing shoulders & sharing lawns

living in a paper thin suberbia
chafing under their paper love.
inspired by "Paper Towns" by John Green
Apr 2017 · 505
ten word poem
emily mikkelsen Apr 2017
& you stopped smelling like cinnamon a long time ago
Jan 2017 · 817
dehydrated
emily mikkelsen Jan 2017
I split my lip
& ****** the blood
between my teeth
reminding myself
of how it felt
when you kissed me.
Dec 2016 · 340
unlike him
emily mikkelsen Dec 2016
she will never
have the energy
to obtain vibracncy
like that which
hides behind his eyes
Dec 2016 · 301
Authenticity
emily mikkelsen Dec 2016
I arch for attention like a cat under the hand. Look at me. Look at me. Make me worth it. This blessing curse of looking at others dripped like tobacco juice from the corners of the mouth into how I view myself. I began to see myself as a vase to hold the flowers of another, if they chose. I am a herding dog's snap at the heels of another man's ambitions. Distracted by the dust of so many people walking purposely in their own direction. To each their own, but what is mine? Never satisfied with this body of mine, this heart of mine. Pour gasoline in my eyes if it would set my heart on fire, like hers, like his. I've only got half buried desires laid to rest in the graveyard of other people's dreams. Am I cursed to always be a mirror reflecting someone else's smile? Will I ever brush off the dust of another man's feet clinging to the bottom of my shoes, rubbing my heels as I tread a path that is not mine, lagging far behind someone's confident back. A pathetic copier is all I am. This quest for my own authenticity is drying my bones, to become dust inhaled by another's lungs.
Dec 2016 · 345
he is art (part 11)
emily mikkelsen Dec 2016
I long to photograph you,
save you
keep you unchanging
just a glace of your beauty
wonder, overwhelming.
how do you manage
to take my breath away
each time?
I say I'm fine
but that is a lie
still falling for you
inside.
Dec 2016 · 304
he is art (part 10)
emily mikkelsen Dec 2016
i wish i could capture
the graceful movements.
you use to paint the earth.
Dec 2016 · 435
he is art (part 9)
emily mikkelsen Dec 2016
I could show
in a photograph
how I feel
save all the things
that make my
fingers flutter
&
capture you
so I can remember you,
the boy
Dec 2016 · 313
he is art (part 8)
emily mikkelsen Dec 2016
that is what I want,
to have a small part of you to keep
since I will ever have the privilege

to be your home
you could walk away, at any second
& I would lose you forever
without having any say
Dec 2016 · 519
he is art (part 7)
emily mikkelsen Dec 2016
but the distance
between us
is further than
the gap between
your curls,
too bad a photograph
is so intimate

because you belong to her
but I promise it's not like that,
I never deserved you, anyways.
Dec 2016 · 164
he is art (part 6)
emily mikkelsen Dec 2016
I hope she loves you like I do.
does she?
Dec 2016 · 302
he is art (part 5)
emily mikkelsen Dec 2016
to photograph you
would it heal
this feeling inside?
a desire for intimacy,
closeness to you,

or perhaps, shock
at how you turn worlds
Dec 2016 · 671
he is art (part 4)
emily mikkelsen Dec 2016
I am afraid,
afraid of losing such a breathtaking
piece of art
& never being able to look
at the beauty
of
the sweep of your jaw
the tilt of your chin in worship
your laugh,
the sound, & your expression
it's like music,
so light
Dec 2016 · 149
he is art (part 3)
emily mikkelsen Dec 2016
how did the top of your hair
get so light?
why did your ring suddenly appear
on a different finger?
where do you disappear to
when you leave my sight?
Dec 2016 · 150
he is art (part 2)
emily mikkelsen Dec 2016
I want to photograph
that crinkle by your eye
when you smile
how deep your hands go
into your pockets
your golden eyelashes
arched to your brow bone
I hate it when I can't find the right way to say something I feel deeply
Dec 2016 · 199
he is art (part 1)
emily mikkelsen Dec 2016
to photograph you,
so many possibilities
black & white
brown, like your eyes
blue like the sky
soft, like your smile
prepare for a major word ***** made up of several poems
Nov 2016 · 499
Aftermath
emily mikkelsen Nov 2016
I can't breathe
I can't breathe
I can't breathe
please teach me how to fill my lungs with air because they collapse each time I look to the other side of the bed and you aren't there.
Nov 2016 · 177
Untitled
emily mikkelsen Nov 2016
my head is always spinning
like a broken record
on constant repeat
scratching out its contents

a needle traces the lines
of my mind
wavering back and forth,
but only static rolls off my tongue

& I am waiting for the one
who will pry open my mouth,
crawl into my chest
& listen to the melody my heart softly beats
Nov 2016 · 210
(Ten Word Poem)
emily mikkelsen Nov 2016
I think I am in love with intimacy,
not you.
Oct 2016 · 420
Under His Skin
emily mikkelsen Oct 2016
he's got a lazy smile
& he walks too slow
his eyes are steady
& his voice is too low

but when he runs it's wild,
his body strung tight
& he loves wholeheartedly,
pupils blown wide

his energy is so close to the surface
you can feel his skin humming,
if you touch him gently

yet he keeps his face slack
& he walks too slow
he is so controlled
you would never know
about the part of himself
he doesn't show
no one sees past his laid-back walk to how his muscles are always taught or how his mind runs faster than anyone I have ever met
Oct 2016 · 233
Escape
emily mikkelsen Oct 2016
my wings are breaking
my body's shaking
my feathers float softly
to the ground I'm trying to escape
soon I will be in the clouds
but how long can I do this?
my escape is becoming my prison
Oct 2016 · 260
Speechless
emily mikkelsen Oct 2016
my words
got stuck somewhere
between my throat
and the air
outside my lips
and I wanted
to tell you
all my sins
but I choked
on your opinion
of me
would you still love me if you knew what I had done?
Oct 2016 · 522
Melody
emily mikkelsen Oct 2016
your voice is like a melody
it slips into my head,
then it drifts away
& i cant remember it’s tune,
until I hear it again.
maybe one day will you sing for me too?
Oct 2016 · 2.6k
Broken Man
emily mikkelsen Oct 2016
I fell in love with a broken man
thought I could put him back together again,
but instead he made me broken too
that's the last time I entrust my heart to you.
everyone makes mistakes sometimes

but I never thought you'd be mine.
Oct 2016 · 196
Untitled
emily mikkelsen Oct 2016
& some nights I can't bear the silence
clamoring to fill the void
with any sort of noise
because my thoughts torment me like nothing else
that is, besides you.
Oct 2016 · 222
Untitled
emily mikkelsen Oct 2016
cheap motel beds
& champagne out of paper cups
red lipstick girls
wonder what it's like
to be in love
Oct 2016 · 390
Endless Dream
emily mikkelsen Oct 2016
you drift through my mind
never truly disappearing
behind my thoughts you stand there waiting
to take my hand at night
you run through my dreams
with eyes so full of love
what did I do to deserve you?
my constant lover
my missing pieces
my endless dream
oh how I wish you were real
Oct 2016 · 1.2k
Untitled
emily mikkelsen Oct 2016
he is beautiful
oh, like the sun
dripping golden light,
& God what I would give
to have him make
the flowers in my mind
grow again
Oct 2016 · 270
4 am
emily mikkelsen Oct 2016
you and your 4 am eyes
strip me layer by layer
in total innocence
unlike anyone I have ever known
it's unintentional for sure

you don't know how you affect me
how your pillow wrinkled cheek
gives my fingers butterflies
or how your freckled eyes
make my pupils open wide

you have given me love like no other
and you have no idea
Oct 2016 · 782
wake up
emily mikkelsen Oct 2016
I want to see you when you wake up
hair a mess & weary eyes
I want to hear your scratchy morning voice
watch you struggle to stay awake
I want to see the sunlight creep slowly across your body
watch your eyes flutter open
I want to wake up with you
Sep 2016 · 493
Never Had
emily mikkelsen Sep 2016
so far away,
so hard to reach
can you help me find my sleep?
the phantom of  your body
leaves a dent beside me
& I miss your touch
like something that I lost
even though I never  had it at all
Sep 2016 · 482
I Believe in Love with Him
emily mikkelsen Sep 2016
sheets brushing skin
his legs intertwined with  mine
I can feel each of his fingers
on my stomach
his breath on my shoulder
tickling my ear
his hands in my hair
our chests rise and fall together
each kiss pushing air into my lungs
his hands clasping mine
holding my universe together
he brushed my collarbone
with his fingertips
I kissed the scar on his shoulder
calloused hands
holding my face
I traced his hips
and felt his back
under my hands
shoulders, spine, ribs
he is in my cracks
& I am in his
dissolving into each other
his body heat
lulls me to sleep
kisses on cheeks
& I believe in love with him
Sep 2016 · 218
Oceans
emily mikkelsen Sep 2016
the oceans in your eyes
rise and swell
salty water drips down my bare back
we gasp for breath
you're drowning in your sadness
and i'm drowning in your beauty
i cannot save you
Sep 2016 · 340
early mornings
emily mikkelsen Sep 2016
the light
from the window
wakes him
trickling down his face
I like watching him sleep
in these sheets
so white
his eyes
staring into mine
this time
I can't look away
my whole body
aches
to hear him say
those words
I see in his eyes
oh what a surprise
when he smiles
at me
the early morning light
touching his lips
makes me want to
kiss him.
but instead
I'm left
laying on the other side
of the bed
separated
from him
/ you are so close /
/ yet so far /

— The End —