theinscrutableescapee - prose & verse
prose & verse

tokyo / bordeaux / los angeles/ copenhagen book blog

75 posts

The Way Your Eyes Would Bite My Neckduring The Cigarette Breakwhen There Was Nothing Between Us And The

The way your eyes would bite my neck during the cigarette break when there was nothing between us and the moon except for the smell of stale tobacco.

© Margaux Emmanuel 

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More Posts from Theinscrutableescapee

6 years ago

light-headed

I know a place

where the nights are hidden under a veil of tobacco

I know a place 

where lovers wait for the rain to cease, sheltered by a stranger’s open garage

holding stolen beers and each other’s hands 

I know a place

where boys with messy hair sit on the windowsill reading Cocteau 

I know a place

where people fall in love over a cigarette and a line of Tennyson 

It’s a place 

where life isn’t so bad 

© Margaux Emmanuel 


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6 years ago

Writerscreed Discovery of June 2018

Writerscreed has been digging through the Tumblr Writing Community to find more writers to feature on our blog. Here are the talented writers we have found during June who deserve more attention! Check them out and give them a follow, and as usual, Keep writing everyone! We cannot wait to see who will make the list in July.

@armchairpoet28

@oscarsins

@thepyschoticgirlsworld

@theinscrutableescapee

@rehnwriter

@my-dragoneyes

@insteadofthis

@annytyx

@beerkatt

@shoolster

@domesticatedwanderer 

@dreamingonclouds

@poemsmostly

@driftwards

@aviatowl

@bhumikasingh

@dreamingonclouds

@cocoagoddess331

@poetrybybee

@writingioana2003

@shebleedsblueink

@misanthrofray

@ughizi

@agenderturtle

6 years ago

2003

Postcards from Saigon

yellowed pictures

pants rolled up to his knees

dark ray bans

thick rims

raindrops on lips

or raindrop lips

his eyes,

a different shade of brown

those that say

“buy me a beer

before I change my mind”,

dusty eyelids

a scar

lingering

under his eye

a dog-eared book

in his hand

where he wrote in the margins

These

are

the

lines

that

prove

that

my

existence

is

a

mistake

but you only read 

the pencil prophecy

after

you had kissed him  

after

he had taken

all of those

painkillers

after

he had written that letter

saying

“I too

was once loved,

but not by you”.

© Margaux Emmanuel 2018


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