The Girl Behind The Red Door...

I'm Emily. 22. Film major. walking jukebox. Working in Television/news. Every word I cannot express logically comes out in a mess of poems and writing or whatever you may want to call it. Some of you draw. Some of you write. Some of you take photos or sing or play an instrument or scream your words out loud when nobody's listening. But that's the beauty of life. Those are the things that make us feel alive.So, I'm here to share with you the things that make me feel just that. oh yes, and what I write on here is mine so pleaseee don't steal it >.

I mean, I hope you’re happy,
But the sky is still the sky without you,
And I’m not surprised by that anymore.

Caitlyn Siehl, from This is Not a Love Poem (via usedhalo)

(Source: pukesplatter, via teaspoonss)

Forgive Me

I have been writing, but haven’t posted lately because I am in the process of moving to a new place with K, and my birthday is tomorrow so I’ve been busy with friends causing shenanigans ;) Anyways, I’ll be posting some writing soon, and probably selfishly spamming everyone with new place pictures. Much love :)

Starting Fires

There’s this certain way that your cheeks puff up when you laugh and the dimples in the used up cork board I’ve had for years just do not equal the feelings of desperate undying love I have for you inside of me
Every sinew and
Vein and
Ounce of energy
Kinetic
In my body
I am rolling on a one way street down a hill
Towards you
We will collide and
I
Will
Be
So
Okay with the outcome because this grand
Luxe this grand
Gesture towards something that I think is called
something like love or life or meaning or
something like that
I think that it means something and I don’t mean like tolerating the cap off of the toothpaste or the glass shelves my dad broke after he fell off a ladder
No
I mean the sweet taste of lipstick I had been waiting to open for years finally marking its territory on the curve of your clavicle
I mean
The sound of your name rolling off of my tongue as I spell out our future on the lines across your hips
I mean
The feel of your lips making our life story between my thighs
These are the precious things I say And
you are worth it
These
Are the reasons
The reasons
I
Love
You

Today has been an exceptionally difficult health day. I don’t get these cancer cells taken care of (hopefully for good) until the 25th. Illness is a bitch, and I need to be tougher. I’ve never appreciated naps more in my entire life.

You told me I could laugh if I wanted to. 
I could start the laughter when I see a piece of your history, of the way the hair stuck to your face when you were a teenager and how you bounced up and down like time had stopped for thirty seconds in between each millisecond and when you came back down to earth the sound around you would be a million buzzing bees and the people around you were the stars that made up the galaxy. 
I cannot fathom words to make you feel like you can move mountains with your bare hands and not take credit for causing the supernova explosion in my veins with your entire entity gushing through them, I cannot shove you behind my eyes to look at yourself and see the Atlantic Ocean bow at the out rings of your irises and I cannot spew enough honey from my tongue to give you the power you have earned all by yourself. 

Take a bow, baby.

You told me I could laugh if I wanted to.
I could start the laughter when I see a piece of your history, of the way the hair stuck to your face when you were a teenager and how you bounced up and down like time had stopped for thirty seconds in between each millisecond and when you came back down to earth the sound around you would be a million buzzing bees and the people around you were the stars that made up the galaxy.
I cannot fathom words to make you feel like you can move mountains with your bare hands and not take credit for causing the supernova explosion in my veins with your entire entity gushing through them, I cannot shove you behind my eyes to look at yourself and see the Atlantic Ocean bow at the out rings of your irises and I cannot spew enough honey from my tongue to give you the power you have earned all by yourself.

Take a bow, baby.


“Because sending a letter is the next best thing to showing up personally at someone’s door. Ink from your pen touches the stationary, your fingers touch the paper, your saliva seals the envelope, your scent graces the paper. Something tangible from your world travels through machines and hands, and deposits itself in another’s mailbox; their world. Your letter is then carried inside as an invited guest. The paper that was sitting on your desk, now sits on another’s. The recipient handles the paper that you handled. Letters create a connection that modern and impersonal forms of communication will never replace.”

“Because sending a letter is the next best thing to showing up personally at someone’s door. Ink from your pen touches the stationary, your fingers touch the paper, your saliva seals the envelope, your scent graces the paper. Something tangible from your world travels through machines and hands, and deposits itself in another’s mailbox; their world. Your letter is then carried inside as an invited guest. The paper that was sitting on your desk, now sits on another’s. The recipient handles the paper that you handled. Letters create a connection that modern and impersonal forms of communication will never replace.”

(Source: therefined, via vodkacupcakes)

I swear to god,
sometimes
the color of your eyes
makes me forget
the world is round.

—{One of many things I’ve refrained from blurting out} (via shewhofightswithmonsters)

(via whatdoryforgot)

Birdy

—I'll Never Forget You

p-opp-y:

Birdy - I’ll Never Forget You

Everyone is posting about how he was a huge part of our childhood and everything and I guess it hit me that that’s so true. Mostly, I guess I don’t want to face the fact that we grow up and things in the world have all the sudden changed. Nothing is permanent. And that’s scary. But it’s also beautiful.

Everyone is posting about how he was a huge part of our childhood and everything and I guess it hit me that that’s so true. Mostly, I guess I don’t want to face the fact that we grow up and things in the world have all the sudden changed. Nothing is permanent. And that’s scary. But it’s also beautiful.

(Source: wagnerrios)