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Heavy Hearted Aug 2018
And I want to believe you when you tell me that it'll be okay-
And I want you to hold my hand and walk me through that door.
And despite my fears I'll dance for you,
becsuse I just dance the way I feel.

Now catch that shut eye in my room
Sleeping in-
Oh, summer moon,
Starts at night - worthless insight
Lapping lakes like Leerey Loons-
Patience, shadow, hold on tight;
Waiting alone in your caccoon,
Till dawn till dusk; till you fade to light

& every night,
you fade to light.
Inspired by my wonderful lil Ipod
CGW Feb 2018
Sunlight cups the water wind.
Wisper the cold valley into my head.
Moutain edges cut the horizon for miles and miles.
Wet stone like charcoal
Dipped in Irish green moss
Caught in the ocean mist.
Standing in the icy creek with waterfall water washing at my skin. Light blissfully rests on my closed eye lids.
Feel the ground.
Empathy for the folds in the valley light that crawls along magnificent for infinity.
I can feel the dandelion spores.
They swing on strings and bring the clouds down.
Down.
They pick apart all the clouds until it snows.
Snow silently crystallizes leafless birch trees.
Winter flows in every direction until the creek unfreezes.
Emma S Apr 2015
04.35 am
Bon Iver  is playing quietly
For Emma  is set on repeat
I'm hiding under the covers
Music is my sleeping pill
Tonight my mouth refuse to swallow it
So awake I lay
With the drapes drawn
Hoping to finally get some rest
Bon Iver is playing:
'For all you're lies,
You're still very loveable.'
While I pretend that
For Emma is my song
04.53 am
raen Feb 2015
An almost stillness came about as she strode into my door,
like breath itself refused to move,
fearful of touching her mysterious beauty

But her obsidian eyes betrayed her.

Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
she looked at me,
and I knew…

---------------------------------------------------------------­-----------------------------

Molten lava spilled forth from her mouth, melting our clocks—
eighteen hundred nightmares compressed in two hours.
Long hand moving forward, as the short hand moved backward
How can memories persist in such an acrid life?

She spoke of a beast in the guise of a man,
one who ravaged innocence with the flick of a click
A coward that collected milk teeth for hardened bones
of other ***** beasts with no spine

That throaty tenderness when she spoke,
sprinkled crystal seeds of frustration in me
She says she loathed him, denied she loved him,
but her obsidian eyes betrayed her

There she was, a bud he plucked from the nuns’ garden
He grafted then he pruned her,
spreading her pollen, wafting her scent
yet folding her petals to himself

Caterpillars feeding upon her leaves,
she lets them devour her,
yet once they are wrapped in their cocoons to sleep,
she stabs them with her thorns.

Tears then slid down from her midnight lace eyes
and it was all I could do to catch them
She said she was weary of curtailing butterflies,
of tearing their wings before they can even fly

I had to ask, how many… how many winged gems?
She lifted her sleeves, and showed me her scars
One ugly mark for each innocent child plunged deep,
my heart getting slashed at least three hundred a beat.

----------------------------------------------------------­----------------------------------

A certain stillness came about as I strode into her door,
like fear itself refused to move,
letting breath touch her mysterious beauty for the last time....

Her obsidian eyes had betrayed her.

Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
I looked at the knife beside her.

Maroon-mapped sheets, a stunted womb.

Strains of Bon Iver’s “Flume”
flit past the sighing air like a butterfly,
and I knew…
Agosto, 2014
firexscape Jul 2014
Emma is the girl
For who you'd pay millions
Just to hear her laugh
That laugh
It is a laugh no summer breeze can compete with
To hear Emma talk
Is to immerse yourself in a still black lake
Illuminated my moonlight's gleam
On a raw summer night
Once you hear it
Her voice becomes the only lullaby
You will ever fall asleep to
Once you see her
The second you do
Beauty will cease to exist
There will only be Emma
And that which is not her.
Listening to Bon Iver's "For Emma", I asked myself "who is Emma?".

— The End —