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Ephemeral Em Dec 2018
I was a withered plant hidden from the light
I thought i was beyond help
But I never truly knew
Until I was back in the sun
Now I bask in his light
As his fingers brush along my cheek
My chest
My thighs
His touch fills me with a warmth I never thought I’d know again
After years spent freezing
His smile bathes me in a light id never thought I’d see
And I’ve begun to grow
Flourishing through the growing pains
I let myself breathe
I let myself need
I let myself eat
I let the bruises fade
And my heart begins to beat again
And I’ve learned how to love again
I wrote this as a sequel to Its Harder Than it Seems to Dream of What I Dream. Things have gotten better. They really can.
Ephemeral Em Dec 2017
My heart is more or less okay
I guess
But she's long past her springtime days
And sometimes she tries to beat out of my chest
To fly
But she's stuck inside my ribcage

I wish, oh I do, to help her break away
That's true
To help her find more of her glory days, her youth
But once things are broken there isn't a way
To fix
Cannot hide from the truth

So my heart tries to fight and scream
But I'm alright
I ignore the pain in my head
I know this is no illusion, no dream
No release
Nowhere to hide until I am dead

For those green-tinted days I yearn
The gentle sun rays
That gently caressed my heart
But time after time after time I learn
To survive
I must tear my hopes apart
Ephemeral Em Dec 2017
no mercy
silver glinting in the light
charging forward
no surrender
blade meets tender skin
tender skin splits
blood spills
there is no time for mourning in a war
white speckled red
the enemy hidden behind the glass
destroy it from the inside
destroy yourself
there is no time for mourning in a war
Ephemeral Em Dec 2017
Some nights I feel a pain in my chest, beating against my rib cage, as if my heart were punching itself, as I sometimes do
My breaths grow shallow and it's hard to breathe
And I think
Tonight could be the night that I die
I could die with my heart and hipbones full of bruises, self inflicted, painted with my own brush strokes
And it's doesn't hurt as much as it should
And it's not as scary as it should be
I'm numb inside, starving my feelings until they survived off of scraps of words given to me, compliments I don't allow myself to receive
And I know that I am starving
But I still punch my stomach for growling
I tell myself that it is applauding but I know
I know
That it is not celebrating
It is crying
Yelling for help
And I want someone to hear
But I silence it with liters and liters of water
Drowning the girl in me that wants help
And as I sink I stare at skeleton girls and worship them
Begging them
As if they could teach me how to shed my skin
Teach me how not to eat
How not to need
I am a withered plant hidden from the light
I could be beyond help
But we'll never truly know
Until I am back in the sun
Ephemeral Em Nov 2017
The weight of the world is heavy on my chest
I've never felt so alone
I close my eyes and hope to finally get rest
But my rib cage does not feel like a home

My heart beats fast, battered and bruised
I ache and I ache and I ache
My crimes can never be excused
I know I'm an imposter, a fake

A plastic heart where a real one should beat
Glass eyes that cry glass tears
A cracked smile full of porcelain teeth
A wax figure brain between my ears

A pretend human, a forgery, a disgrace, a lie
That's all I will ever feel
Just a girl imploded who forgot how to cry
Who forgot how to heal
Ephemeral Em May 2017
Hunter S Thompson held hands with death
The bony fingers wrapped over his own
Resting on the trigger of a gun pressed to his head
Bang: blood went everywhere
Found by his son with dead eyes and cold to the touch

Sylvia Plath laid her head on deaths lap
Inside of an oven with the gas turned on
She took deep breaths and starved for oxygen
Carbon monoxide filled her lungs
Found by a nurse with blue lips and a still chest

David Foster Wallace reached up to kiss the lips of death
A rope worn as a necklace
He let his body hang as his face turned blue
Found on his patio with a broken neck and a broken heart

I too am a writer and they are scared for me to reach for death
I long for their embrace as a razor across my wrists
Writers are always torn apart trying to be too many people at once
So let them find me without a spark of life or an ounce of blood left inside
Ephemeral Em Apr 2017
Floating, floating carried by the soft air
Dressed entirely in billowing white
Eyes closed, guard down, chin up without a care
There has not ever been such carefree flight

At least that is what I try to believe
If you pretend you're free then you can be
Ignore the aching feeling, let it leave
Nothing hurts you when you fly blissfully

Until your husband comes to shut the door
Stops the wind from carrying you away
From him, trapped without love, just like before
Will you again be able to be gay?

Floating way back down, trapped by my husband
I was loved once, never to be again
Based on Chapter One of The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
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