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  Jan 2020 eme
trash bag
you told me you were leaving
because i smoke cigarettes
i stopped smoking in fear
of losing you forever
i went by your place to tell you
that i broke my bad habit
i saw you pressing your lips
against someone new
my walk home was lonely
and the only thing pressed to my lips
was a cigarette
i guess it's time to quit my bad habit:
  Apr 2019 eme
i am sorry
that when you broke
i didn't help you back together
but started checking your pieces
to see if any of them could serve
to fill my missing ones
im okay
  Mar 2019 eme
elle jaxsun
i always have
the urge to run.

but what is it like
to be a tree?

to be confident enough
to root yourself
and grow with
wild abandonment,
being unapologetically

i'm still running,
but i wish i knew.
  Mar 2019 eme
in a world full of colour,
i am a blank canvas.
eme May 2018
Hey listen,
Things might sound platonic but your black shirt suits you perfectly.
Just like that dimples, bubbled up so calmly in the right place.
Destined perks in the right choice of creature.
Your ravishing eyes and sugar-coated smile obviously would:
**** the Athena,
Drunken the cupids,
And gladly also take myself down on my knees.

I'm not trying to hide,
But reality blows better miles around you.
great delusion; the world is really a drug
eme May 2018
Choking off people’s assumptions,
I’m not like the enigma.

I may look complicated;
Yet I’m just a small, arduous spec of the universe.
I may give catechisms;
Bet it’s painless to break, if you feel.
I might have a perplexing persona;
But honey, that’s the shadow of your ego.

I was drowning, in the basin of lies called fairy tales.
And I was drunk, in the virtual reality you made.
I let you choke me, with the wine so called love.

I’m awake;
After weeks of being high of your lies,
After months of being high of your manipulating acts,

Bet that’s why you’re making a great actor.

The masks finally ripped of the performer;
The lies, the bitter truth,
Leaving the ego, caught in the act.

Turns out that I can’t differentiate between reality and stage-play.
I can’t find the difference between when you truly do something,
Or when you’re doing your job on the stage.

I have myself questioning about things,
Do actors have feelings? Do actors always manipulate their acts?

I finally read the script;
The deceptive tears, the dishonest sweet words,
And how I’m just a puppet to your puppetry.

Then I realised a thing.
I was not a conundrum.
I was a slave to your ego,
In your stage-play,

And you did great on your show.

— The End —