The Girl Behind The Red Door... |
I'm Emily. 21. Film major. walking jukebox. 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 >.< |
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7
Notes Secondary Webs We Spin (Calling It Love)I create memories
just as well as I write notes in my makeshift journal
of sand and sticks for tracing lines.
But these memories will always fade,
wash you away,
wash you away
like she did
again
and again
Until you were nothing but a number not too much bigger than her shoe size.
She calls
and she writes
and she loves you with everything she used to be
But she lathers him with soft spoken bitterness
and a love that licked the poison off his lips
How sweet it tastes.
So
I’ll create memories
and well spoken lies
Spinning webs of
tragedies
Screaming until there are nothing but spiders left
Bet you like them, don’t you?(Source: sunafterthestorm)
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