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Emily L Jul 2015
The space between
your fingers,
your breaths,
is there room enough
for me to find
a little place?
because love is not
a person
nor is it a chase.
Love is a soul
that invites people
inside
to say grace.
For every ounce of
love that leaves
its trace
upon that soul
who says,
"Come there's room enough."
you're home.
Emily L Jul 2015
16w
The birds flew south
in the summer
I guess
the weather
wasn't warm enough
for them.
Emily L Jul 2015
I thought I could
   out run my demons
   but they still
   f  i  n  d   m  e
   in the dead of night
   next to the water
   gone cold in the basin
   from the blood I scrubbed
   from myself
   l   a   s  t    n   i  g  h  t.
   these stars that fall
   onto my body
   won't come off
   so they leave scars
   that I hold tightly
   sewn together like
   w  i  s  h  e  s    l  o  s  t
   to the dark.
   my arms are empty
   yet, so full
   of what I carry
   deep inside
   that when I awake
   in the morning
   it makes me wonder
   w         h         y?
   but tiny cuts
   hold big secrets
   that never heal
   the wound.
   so I will run
   for the very reason
   that weakness is a
   s  i  l  e  n  t     r  o  o  m
   so, if you ask:
   "thoughts for a penny,"
   I'll just bargain for a tomb
   since all these whispers
   live too haunt me
   I run...
   I fall...
   I .....   l   o  s   e.
Emily L Jul 2015
Is it possible
For a soul
To be untouched
By free will?
So they're kinder
Towards us struggling
To keep our heads
Above water.
Instead,
They are the hands
That hold us under.
We drown,
They smile
And life goes on.
Emily L Jun 2015
I'm late again
for the train
not my period
except the one that
comes at the end of
this sentence.
I barely make it too
Saikyo-line
the worst place
for women and girls
but it's on the way so
I put up with it
even though it's packed
and hot and full of
sweaty people.
I'm lucky I guess
to find a seat.
There's a man beside me
dressed all for business
he doesn't look
in my direction
So I think nothing of it.
While I settle in
there's the slightest
brush against my arm
I react and then disregard it
as filtering air.
A few minutes go by
I text a friend on my phone
and the same brush comes again
but closer to my chest.
I react the same way
I move closer to the separator
and continue on with
my text.
More minutes pass
and there the touch comes
but now it's a grasp
low on my hip.
The boy across from me laughs
as I jump out from
where I was seated
but the business man
acts as if he was asleep.
I do nothing
Just like the boy laughing does.
and it goes on until
I get off
at the next stop.
There's a schoolgirl
that walks by me,
takes the seat where I sat
I should warn her, I think
but I keep moving on.
If you do nothing
Nothing gets done.
Stop harassment and assault. May change around wording a bit later.
Emily L Jun 2015
I can't let go
of the pieces
I pick up every one
like my life depended on it
because
what remains is
all that shaped me
I am broken by
my own means
and perhaps
that is the art of
shattering what kills me
piece by piece.
Emily L Jun 2015
Belly ache,
mistake
crumbs in the carpet.
Black out,
blood drips
stains on the cement.
Everything
I touch
turns to ashes
because
no matter what
I
always
fall.
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