Like a ghostly memory rehaunting my mind,
Now I am older I see what you did and all your lies,
Nasty, twisted, bitter anger, smell of life,
Hate how you trigger and disfigure me after all this time.

Memories return, stuff I thought was gone forever,
Trying to deal with all this ****, then you anonymous texter.
Hit me when I’m down, only just started to feel better,
Now I can’t sleep again, or dream, back to a bed wetter.

Sleep with a knife by my side, claw hammer and bat,
Because if I saw you intruding again, you’ll get smacked,
See through confusion to see your wrong, protect your back.
What you did was wrong, against the law, that’s a fact.

Why did I enter your head, you contact a ***** past,
Now I’m an adult, you decide you want to play a part,
Twist me even more, you lonely, excuse of your heart,
You and others are hindering my path.

Sick, do you even realise what you did?
Some maybe, but you fit in the category of the sick,
Child abusing, nonse, paedo, take your pick,
Don’t make the excuse that you were just drunk or a bit thick

© Emma Johnson

Just text me
I'm just a text away
Cause I don't wanna
Be near to you
To hear what you gotta say

I'd rather hear a beep
Than your wails and screams
Electric still sensations
Than angry sweet vibrations
When what you meant
Is not what it seems

Don't call me
Don't even think about it
You gotta be a dumb fall-whiffler
A bird-brained vapid zinger
F'you even think I'll answer it

Your rage got more swag in it
When I put in some background music
Alone with wine and cheese
Just let me give no **** in peace
Where all my sighs
Are all that I need

The glow on my screen
Is a better sight
Than the rage in your eyes
Spelling terror and plight

Rather grow this ache in my head
Why don't we both shut up instead
Rid our selves of the fester,
Just text me, I'm a texter.

i think a lot
about the me before this all

i think a lot
about the rocky start
about the headstart the Universe gave
about the time i ghosted for 6 months straight
about how i ended up back in square one
about the space you occupied in my mind
about how you evaded my senses
about a chinese-esque boy

i think a lot about the Universe
about premonitions and gut feelings
about beliefs and signs
about how maybe we were supposed to be
about how we finally we became one
about how it seems that you were a gift a day before my birthday

i think a lot about Us
about how it was fleeting and fun
about how it all felt brand-new
about how it was to be in love
about how emotional i got
about how tumultuous it got
about how rocky it became

i think a lot about Abuse
about how it traumatizes you
about how it ingrains into your survival tactics
about how it invades you as a whole
about how it takes a dove and crush its feathers into limestone
about how i will corrode through and through people's soul
about how i got an epiphany
about how i shouldn't be emotionally abusing you
about how i want to become a better person
about how that even though i'm better now
you have been significantly affected by that abuse

i think a lot about the Me all before
about how a silent storm i was
about how guarded and angry i was
about how unpure and unwholesome
about how malevolent and whipped my mean streak
about how independant and unemotional
about how numb i was

i think a lot about the Me now
about how silent after the storm i am
about how guarded yet softened by your touch
about how i'm semi-pure and wholesome to you
about how i sheath out my mean streak when hurt
about how dependent and emotional
about how i feel all at once

i think a lot about the in-betweens
about our 4th to 6th months
about how we were happy content
about how we still bickered and slept it  out
about how good it was
about how much of a happy spot our relationship was
about our development together
about how maybe we were destined to be even more better in the future

i think a lot about Now
about how it feels like a void
about how there's a force so strong
about how it's separating us
about how we keep hurting each other
about how we keep stressing out
about how we keep breaking down
about how it doesn't feel like we're happy here
about how i wake up crying and still fall asleep at night crying
about how our differences keep pushing us apart
about how much i disregard your frequent drinking
about how you go to drink because your relationship has gone to ****
about how our-used-to-be-happy place is causing us so much pain
about how it doesn't feel the same anymore

i think a lot about the Future
about what we're supposed to do now
about how lost we both are
about how i need to find myself again
about how i need to rebuild myself
about how we both new a clean slate
about how we need each other so much more than before

i think a lot about You
about a Chinese boy
about a friendly, sweet and caring boy
about how reliable he is at work
about how witty and smart he can get
about how mentally stimulating he is
about how plain and dull he can be
about how unemotional he is
about how he is a man of few words
about how he shows his love
about how lousy of a texter he is
about how sweet he is
about how mad he can get when provoked
about how i always forget that he cares even though he doesn't show it
about how he always seems so wild and energetic when he drinks
about how he feels a buzz in alcohol that is pretty unhealthy in the long run
about how much potential he has in his art
about how he can scale higher feats
about how i want to watch him grow
about how much of a workaholic he is
about how distant he gets when he's working
about how sometimes i need you during your busy periods
about how much he loves dogs
about how much i'm not really an animal person
about how much he loves kids
about how much he wants to be a dad
about how much i hate kids
about how homophobic he gets
about how he understands me
about how he can read into my soul but doesn't do it often
about how sometimes it feels like he isn't putting effort because he's busy
about how sometimes i want to be validated and showered opnely and be treated like a Goddess
about how i know he wants me to smile more
about how i know sometimes he can't understand my depression but still puts in effort to calm me down
about how for the past 8 months i know every single inch of him
about how for the past 8 months he knows every single inch of me

i think a lot about Love
about how much i love you
about how my love for you can start up it's own universe
about how love is what keeping me with you
about how we both have our needs and wants in a relationship
about how we should be compromising with our differences
about how we should listen and respect each other
about how we should be kind and giving and freeing
about how we should always try and try and put in effort
about how we should always be there for each other
about how we should always support each other unless it raises concerns
about how we should always understand and put ourselves in each other's shoes
about how we should think before we speak
about how we knows each others flaws and cope with it
about how we will be better as a couple in the near future.

i just think a lot

I tried keeping my love to myself and it left me empty-

Bottling up all I have left me heavy.

The weight anchored me to a quiet ocean floor beyond the sunlight.

So I took my love and divided it up in ways I can give to everyone-

The corny yet punny sense of humor, the hand to hold, the advice even when you don't want it, the adventure seeker, the invested listening, the lover, the 2 am "I'm thinking too much my heart might implode" texter, the hopeful disposition, the empathy, the person you can call only when you need.

I learned that keeping all my love kept me in the dark,

And giving it all to one left me eventually alone.

I learned that in order to float back up from the depths, I had to love far and wide;

I learned that this is how I must be to stay alive.

You're a midnight texter,
I'm a conversation starter,
I never will ever stop talking,
As the silence scares me,
But not as much as it does to you,
Not as much as it does to the way your hands,
Shudder,
Whilst talking,
Am I that intimidating?

You tried avoiding eye contact,
Knowing that I'm amused,
Watching your words tremble,
Maybe you didn't notice,
Me,
Staring,
As if I'm like one of those,
Warning ads,
On your cigarette packaging,
That you don't even bother,
To take a glance at.

Hands,
Your hands fascinate me,
Maybe,
It's because you're not used to girls,
Being too fussy,
Too loud,
Too meticulous.

The second time we talked,
I realized that,
I was the only one,
Who's practically speaking,
I yelled at you,
In the fast food restaurant,
Apparently making fun of myself,
It's not that I'm acting dumb,
I'm acting clueless.

I know you well,
Not too well though,
Perhaps,
It's from my acquaintance,
They are acquainted,
Of your existence,
Well,
I do too.

Maybe it's because of your hair,
How it reminds me a lot of Amber,
Nor the depth of the ocean,
Or maybe it's because of your glasses,
Or the way you wear your trousers,
Above your ankles,
That the picture of it,
Makes me wonder if that is how,
You're going to dress,
If Coachella was a candle light dinner,
And they recall a nostalgic vibe from the 60s,
Though I wasn't even exist at that time.

You're soft,
A soft sinner people find you manipulative,
I find you an oncoming danger,
An expected wave,
Come running from the other side of,
"I could've loved you.",
To a new shore of,
"I've loved you.",
But the weight of the world,
Pulls you away from being loved,
So you figured how to love yourself,
By drowning each and every piece of you,
In the middle of,
"I won't fall in love again.',
But that's preposterous,
You did fall in love,
Again and again and again,
Each time you decided not to.

Remember,
That one night,
Your thumbs became tap dancers,
Tapping onto the keys,
Followed by a soft tempo,

You said,
"I love you,
If you don't feel the same way,
Please assume,
That this was for your poem."

So,
If you were to read this one day,
Here's a disclaimer,
I didn't write this poem for you,
I wrote this poem about you.

You must know that if I were not 20 and relatively broke,
I'd be on the next plane to you.

You need to know that I am a miserable texter and I always miss calls,
And missing you is the only thing I do better.

You should know that it is so true- distance makes the heart grow fonder,
Though I find myself only fond of the days that you were 10 minutes down the road and not 10 hours.

I ache for the long drives down silent roads at 12 am and the long coffee dates at 2 in the afternoon.

I ache for the time we had time at our leisure and it was not down to counting the days until I see you next.

You need to know that in my darkest moments, yes, a call will do. But I'm kidding myself if I think that's what I really need.

I miss having you by my side rather than on the other side of the country,
Where we are split by time zones and state lines.

I feel torn in two when I get the call about how broken you feel and there isn't a **** thing I can do other than hope the phone line somehow relays how much I really do care.

Trust me, I ache to be with you more than your actual heart aches. I have not met many people like you, people who get me and see me through.

I have not found the people I want to tell all to, people that I fit with.

I fit with you, and I need you to know that it's only fitting when we are together.

Nothing makes me angrier
than when people tell me not to worry.
Oh! Of course! Just because you told me not to,
all of my anxiety has disappeared!
Just like that, you "fixed" me!
How many times will I have to say,
It. Doesn't. Work. Like. That.
You've never had a boyfriend before
and have a huge crush on this guy?
Don't worry! Just ask him out, of course he likes you.
(Why would he, no one ever has before,
if he likes me why won't he ask me out)
This is your first boyfriend and you've
never kissed anybody before?
Don't worry! It's easy, all you have to do
is lean up and kiss him!
(Oh god, I want to, but it doesn't work like
that, I freeze up and smile awkwardly and
the moment passes)
You haven't seen your boyfriend in two weeks
and haven't had one real conversation in that time?
Don't worry! He is just a horrible texter.
(He wasn't always, something must be wrong,
he must want to break up with me,
maybe he's too chicken to do it himself and
wants me to break up with him)

Don't worry!

It's funny.

No one catches my eyes like you do.
No one gives me a reason to breathe even more like you do ; for my racing heartbeat, for your smell.
No one inspires me to go to any extent to make a girl smile like you do
No one makes me as patient as i am like you do ; to make you like me
No one understand how i feel for you, nobody does
No one can perceive you like how i perceived you as; someone very special
No one can ever describe this, it's like whatever i'm doing now i know it's going to be worth it one day,despite your busy schedule and you're a bad texter
No one can understand this because every meet up session i feel that every conversation we have is a make up to our long missing communication.
No one understands how i have missed you.

It's just funny

***** getting this old
Kids ridiculing me, cause
I text with one finger

Me in jeans plus four others,
the nearest a guitarist,
black bag shape slung
over a seat, his sleeve
rolled high enough
to see a clamour of ink
in his skin, a ladder of colours.
He listens to music, white worms
lodged into ears.
Another, female, older,
glasses two-thirds down the nose,
much wrinkled Times between
her wrinkled fingers, glint of a ring,
the only one it seems, fatigue
rolling over her face.
The third, sweating, texting,
doesn’t look up, unaware to
anyone but the swirl of letters
on the screen beneath his eyes
where only he knows what exists.
The final guest is asleep,
or is pretending, head drooped
to a shoulder like a dog’s.
The train rattles on,
Monday night,
metal vessel of mysteries.
The musician glances up,
notices he is among a clutch
of others, sees me
and for maybe five, six seconds
does not look away,
his muddy-coloured irises
pouring into mine,
his boots scuffed with muck.
I cannot help but acknowledge
this unexpected attention,
but, flustered, I rustle for a book,
even though my exodus
is minutes away.
I flip to page sixty-two, he looks away,
and then back, swivelling, as if unsure
which way to stick, and there is
a fleeting stab of fear,
of what if in a shred of a second
he lunges across, a tattooed panther,
pins my wrists to the cold window,
spews his breath to my face
and grunts in that appallingly masculine way,
a way that suggests he’s in control,
ha ha *****, what you gonna do now?
when he wouldn’t be, I’d know.
I’d have a clear shot at the crotch
and even if the texter, sleeper, reader
didn’t spring to life, I could put a stop
to it, shove him from me like
yanking a piece of furniture across the room,
crank my voice into a bellow.
I can imagine the stupid mask
of shock on his stubbly face.
He could hurt me, of course he could,
anyone can hurt anyone
how they please, and I’m just as capable,
but I wouldn’t, shouldn’t
launch an attack of fists and kicks,
inject my words with venom.
This thought shrieks in my brain
and dies, squashed bug-like,
its pulse destroyed.
Always assuming the worst.
I’ll learn.
I don’t look at him again.
I don’t know if he looks at me
but he probably does,
thinking of a song he’ll write
or leftovers to eat,
or a missed opportunity.
The book slips to the floor,
for a moment, I forget,
I am being transported.
Everybody leaves, I am no exception,
standing, moving to the doors
that will open with a quiet whirr,
it slows and then a bit more,
bit more,
his memory of me
my ***, perfect in these jeans.
Typical. At least, I think,
it looks good.

Do you ever be in a relationship where u didn't feel the sparks being with them? Not that u didn't try but, you're out of your mind to do anything about it. Everyday is dull and boring.

Maybe the distance? There's nothing we could help with that and neither of us owned a license. Only texts and calls were the only way to reach ourselves and yet, nothing special were born there. Every day i waited for something new to come and lastly, i know i should stop expecting.

Sometimes, i forgot that im in a relationship. Being with him made me become a lazy texter because I didn't know what else to talk about. Sometimes i just wanted to confess the truth about how i felt. But i didn't want to be the reason we broke up. So, i waited. I counted the days and hope.