emilyexplosion

i didn't know her before i met her so to me she will always be that girl who looked like the moment after you begin erasing a sentence and the moment before it is gone - blurred, grey, and with only porcelain fingertips on each side of the fragility. her name flickers through my trachea dances against my larynx i know her disease and her age and her face and her stage and her oh two stats -- but that's not her i don't know her and neither does she and neither will she she was five when she blurred from the page, from the bed; i met her on her dying day but i wish i knew her smile i wish i could hold all of her (365 time

the world turns but sometimes stops, though not for all. only for you or for me or for her and it goes on for everyone else. i hear the sirens travel, tired and weary with the weight of tears bending the fenders. they roll against the sun-baked pavement and i feel the exhaustion seeping from the wheels like gas, but more like gasps. there is nothing i can do so I turn, and so does my world. but that is for me and not they, because they are restless and spinning. the colours they once knew have faded sepia in this one moment stretched over several -- crescent moon shock staples their joints to the fabric of fear as they sit inside the whir

quiet and cold, the sullen silk of morning drapes across my shoulders like a lingering dream from days long past. i find my fingers, fluttering, anxious for a fold-- you can only clasp onto omissions. the night spills like salt, milk, broken glass. rivulets of hours streak the sidewalk, and i am blind. forgive me, i speak, voice frayed as torn ribbon. i cannot elude flight or fear. and, with the pressure of endless moons, i soundlessly sunk into stone.

and your veins line mine our capillaries overlapping and spelling secrets into the blood worn walls. we lock each other behind rib cages – held there, willingly imprisoned upon breath, voice, compartments of the heart. i am you and you are me but we are still able to be- hold all this beauty. it encloses us, vanilla scented, and pomegranate; rhyming with each breath, we listen to the lullaby of this language. exhalations coat our vertebrae shared oxygen swells our cells bliss paints my eyelids crimson, navy, colours of the moon or of cities at night and the sky begins to feel less far. we stand before it, watching st

and there are no words on my tongueteethlips but there is steel, programmed and monogrammed and carved into sorrow. it is unrecognizable, mangled by sin and sand but still no one cries of its cadence. here i am trying to speak and all that i say are metallic clicks and don't you understand my language? i thought everyone was fluent in apathy and disconnect these days. ah, but i still have ink -- archaic yet tangible, faded though true. i have letters printed on my bones but i cannot read them for they are in me and i am in me and we do not see each other. my me is not your me so murmur how i am -- tell me my story, i want to hear whispers

the lake stilled, like satin draped on tabletops or sky beneath constellated stars. glass cloaked its ripples and tides, rinsing sand of sin and clouds of virtue. all sunk into serenity below the sea. though silence lay quilted upon the water, skeletons of songs were laced into waves: archaic melodies, resurrected by nostalgia, moonlight, and hope. all the family listened, but none spoke of the chords or cadenzas. the arpeggios were somehow secret, tempo sacred. it was as though letting go of the lake's lyrics would cause you to forget your own. it was as though having this meant, for just one moment or maybe two, you could hear your hear

i want to breathe it breathe you in like dust in the air like diamonds in my lungs like blood i feel it i choke it i cough it i am it and there is nothing i can do but live it, livid and pulsing like a drum or a heart or music in the dark or a mixture of all three, yes that is me i combine and intertwine and fly.

hand in hand, they grew. their breath harmonized from tripping tides to sangria sighs, smiles clawing towards the trees. moonlight crept through their limbs and laughter, watching as days dreamt by. yet, despite woven whispers, turnstiles claimed them; dusty hilltops gathered spite like leaves, inevitable in defeat. finally, their fists collided atop the proud conduits of their creation. a citadel, born of their mirth, crawled with curious captivation. but avarice, fearful and sage, burned into a throat and sliced the edges of another. in silence, there was one. did he ever regret?

The echo of her final breath was scattered by the child's scream.  Her husband stood, shivering in the fading fog of memory as his stained hopes flooded the floor. The wail surged. Turning towards his daughter, the man let out a cry that tangled with chance and time and devastating inevitability. "You're all I have, now." -- The girl's bliss striped the walls, sunshine struggling to overcome reminiscence. But, unable to elude history, corners of the house hid contours. These shadows were joined by bottles-- manifested misery. The man, split by his addiction, murmured apologies to his daughter. He loved her more than the stars, but she a