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Stephanie Emily Feb 2015
A mother's shrine of a body
chastised for immortal capacities
no man himself could ever bare.

A breast of sustenance and stupefaction
castigated to a parcel of mundane flesh.

I am these atrocities for which your lack of appreciation
have wrongly deemed.

A victim of what the blind overlooked.
Stephanie Emily Dec 2014
Silence roars.
Your tongue races autobiographies in minutes.
Spitting syllables of stress until a downpour falls across the kitchen counter and streams to the floor.
I sit there.

I find release in touch.
A squeeze of the hand.
Arms wrapped around a waist.
Yet this is not acceptable.

I cannot speak, but you urge me so.
Forced sentences mean nothing.
I don't want the world that accompanies us to know my secrets,
So you wonder why I'm so down.
As if gravity hasn't thrown me off a cliff promising to catch me from my death yet changed its mind at the last minute.
So you keep quiet.
Stephanie Emily Nov 2014
Hushed responses.
As if I am secret.
As if I am toxic.
As if I am the dealer you're about to beat.

Blatant disappointment
In sparse words
In deep baritone
In the nipping of quick tongue.

I am a nuisance.
As if I am not justified
As if I can't show my affection
As if you have not loved me for the past three years.
Stephanie Emily Oct 2014
Curled up in the passenger side, my moccasins rested on the edge of the seat.
Projecting heat pleaded the piercing winter from under my skin.
My chin fell slowly as ash insulated my heart.
My lips would part as second-hand soothing soot
Grew arms and cradled my soul like the look
A newborn baby receives when wrapped in adoration.
A suffocation as an indication I was not alone.

Strangers. Soaring together for forty-eight hours.
Oblivious to dangers our adolescent wings never noticed.
Our only focus was on each other.
At first, words of conversation refused to be discovered.
But all at once we slowly uttered
Our pasts until his demons appeared in front of me.
Surprised I could still see through the windshield ahead,
I did not dread the broken being to my left.
Because who was I to judge the stranger
Who’d unknowingly love me as if his life depended on it?

Have you ever been in love with a Thunderbird?
One that flies solely in winter blizzards?
Fueled by chain-smoking cigarettes
And Dunkin Donut cappuccinos with five sugars.
It never once regarded the threat
Of driving through life
At ninety-five miles per hour.

I fell in love at six in the morning, wearing a borrowed jacket.
Coated in sleep’s drowsiness, we floated on clouds,
Dodging white paper coral trees and buried houses.

I fell in love when the world stood still
And the snow descended along with our sanity.
Somehow a Thunderbird granted me amnesty from myself.
As humanity remained asleep, with stealth
We drifted through back roads in horrific elegance
That jostled my brain until my mind was rewired to my heart
And has remained that way since.
Stephanie Emily Oct 2014
I was made to believe I could always improve.
Of course I assumed that meant others could, too.
Because why would we want to remain stagnant?
We live each day like fragments we hope will attract like magnets
And piece into the picture-perfect paradox we call life.

We are driven by this horribly humane curiosity
Accelerating to increasing velocities,
Until we inhibit our ability to realize when enough is enough
Lost in the instilled thoughts that manipulate our emotions with their bluff,
That we should never settle.

But never say never.
As cliches turn into ever-present moments,
We learn that striving is only a component of who we are.
Because if we keep chasing a limit that keeps rising
We’re only chastising a perfectly acceptable being.

Like a cigarette pressed against wrinkled lips,
This vague mantra is a hidden temporary fix.
One that ignites so easily and makes sense to the brain
But never quite knows when to seize it’s reign.
Because no parent has ever told their child when to stop trying.

We fall under control of our own mentalities trying to push us further.
But when can we put the pressure on the back burner?
And try to accept who we are
Before we accidentally discard
A perfectly adequate being.

Sometimes a friendly reminder to advance is taken out of hand.
But my hands have been fidgeting with rings until I brand their bands with indents.
Ones that burn through my skin and leave the memories of closed fists.
The fear of loving where we are or who we’re with should not exist.
For when you’ve exhausted all your happiness and have wilted to your last petal,
I will be flourishing still, for I have learned to settle.
Stephanie Emily Oct 2014
He kissed my body
Like the waves of the ocean
Lapping the sides of a boat.
Gentle, yet forceful.
Without the sounds of buoyancy,
I’d be fixated on keeping afloat.

The currents of his body became mine,
And mine his.
Until we couldn’t distinguish
The two.

Like a mixed drink of 10% dizziness,
30% sweetness, and 70% drunk off of you,
I feel the rocking of waves when I step on dry land.

Lingering, longing, looking to accompany me always.

— The End —