Emily Yvonne - Tumblr Posts

I'm not the one who dances on the edge of a knife.. I'm not the knife either, I am the sharpness; the sharpness that cuts you. I am not the wound, nor am I the blood.. I am but the pain you remember.

Emily Yvonne

My only safe space turned into a prison;

the cage which I previously crawled in to hide, now won't let me out.

They shove glass shards, from both sides, right into my head;

from the blood pouring out they tie another thread.

And I'm waking up scared, crying in my bed,

my mind swirling a thought "It'd be better if I'm dead."

But that is not me.. That's what I was fed;

the infection, fascination, that dependent dread...

Voices so familiar, they sounded so sad.

"We're here, just come," with opened arms they said,

"we belong together... Do not be misled!"

I did not know it was a threat,

did not see their stare turn mad.

They hugged me, wrapped me, not at all that bad.

"You'll never be alone again, we can promise since we care,

unlike those you need to do so, their attention is so rare."

They took me in, they cradeled me, calmed me, saying "Life ain't fair."

And I comforted, lived with them, breathing without air,

walking 'round that place, where all the doors they mark "Beware".

Yet all slightly ajar, letting demons out' their lair.

They saved me, helped me, gave so much, that I feel guilty when I dare

to think of, or to look at the world that is out there.

Emily Yvonne

It's once again that point where my brain almost explodes because of all [the] unwritten words, [the] unpainted canvas. My heart violently wincing in its lucid dreams, still unable to wake yet. My lungs in search for a knife to tear themselves open. On the sharpest edge, you let yourself but still cannot fall. Like a puppet on a string spinning shapelessly, singing silently..

..waiting, for a push.

Need the creativity to go berserk and just pour it all out. I know it might be dangerous but what kind of Art is it without that?

And yet, despite all that rave inside me, here I am, only melting in my love for cats and squirrels; that's as dangerous as it gets at the moment...

Emily Yvonne

Easy, in any of its aspects, is borning in all aspects.

Emily Yvonne

Literature is the clearest and most concrete manifestation of the abstract.

Emily Yvonne

One is able to understand you only as deeply as they understand themself.

Emily Yvonne

I have always been of the opinion that consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative...

Oscar Wilde

When one's unable to have anything beyond their practical reality, to repeat those practical realities day after day, with ongoing time more and more often, is the only way of forcedly convincing their subconsciousness that they are, indeed, alive, and living with any purpose.

Emily Yvonne

Let the torch-light lead your way

to the crossroads where fresh fruits and flowers lay.

Gently crawling fog, it whispers,

surrounding us, dancing sisters.

The raven of coal feathers flutters

above the heads of my dear brothers.

If you listen, all the living sounds with croon;

the revered forest, hills and the waning moon.

A memory embodied by a candle-flame;

none shall grow forgotten, call them each by name.

In my ebony hair the wreathed yew,

as death entwines with something new.

Emily Yvonne

"All this fury, all this rage; the grinning growling consequence of broken discipline, deflating fears and suffocated love... "

Emily Yvonne

"Let me prove that you can trust me more than you trust your demons."

Emily Yvonne

Not always, but sometimes nonetheless, just because something is true doesn't mean it must control you; often some truths gain the power of facts in our eyes and minds.. and just as often we tend to diminish some facts into mere, allegedly, subjective truths.

Emily Yvonne

𝑫𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅

𝑶𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒆𝒅?

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒂 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆

𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒊𝒕?

𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐘𝐯𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞

Who are you? Why do you embrace me so? How is it you're never absent? Why is it you're never leaving? How is it your arms are so heavy on my chest when you're only skin and bones in a shadow veil? How is it you speak with voices of so many without a tongue to form the words? How is it you scream; how is it you howl without opening your mouth? Why do you cling to me, say that you belong with me? How is it I don't even know your name but you know my every thought? How is it I've never seen your face when you're always by my side, holding my hand, guiding me like a child? Why do I follow? How is it I let you? What are you?

Emily Yvonne, fragments of my mind

My heart's an Autumn forest

My mind's a Winter lake

My soul consists of Northern lights

Morning mist's my spirit's wake

𝑬𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒀𝒗𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆

"It is so easy for people to have sympathy with suffering. It is so difficult for them to have sympathy with thought."

𝑶𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒆

Grievous beyond comprehension, utterly disgraceful, and above all dismaying, but a fact nonetheless; people would rather suffer, as it is, regarding any efforts, for many, easier, than the actual action of thinking.

Emily Yvonne

I'm holding a warm mug, steam swirling from the surface of my tea. All is quiet inside my home except the crackling of dancing flames in the little fireplace. Even my beloved cat is sleeping. There's a book, waiting for me to sit down in the pillow covered window nook, but I cannot help but stare through the great window.. the window that oversees a vast fjord, and the hills crawling with fog. The water nearly frozen over now, the ice's starting to sing. The blues and grays painting their way through every day. But today the sky above the hills is a familiar purple shade, an omen of white feathers to soon fall down to protect the land. I'm here, present, and yet I'm completely calm. Surrounded by home; every piece of me knows, every piece of me feels, my spirit breathes. I am standing here and I don't wanna leave. I wanna exist nowhere but here.

It is but a dream.. how endlessly beautiful.

Emily Yvonne

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧

𝐈𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞

𝐓𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝

𝐒𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝

𝐓𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐩

𝐈 𝐜𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰

𝐈𝐧𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫

𝐈𝐜𝐞

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

𝐎𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬

𝐈𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

𝐎𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐈𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐈𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

𝐈𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐬

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐠

𝐀 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐄𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲

𝓔𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓨𝓿𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮

"It is viable to be benevolent and rational at the same time, in fact, it is sorely dangerous to be one without the other."

Emily Yvonne

It leaves you and you don't know how

You don't see your friends just shadows dancing in your mind

You do what you love what you can until you don't

The desperate call for help takes away all the joy

Nothing's real

You're not here

You're not sleeping

Not waking

Just that tantalising

Feeling of weakness

Where breaking is freedom

They want you to let go

To give up your struggle

Why hold on

When it clearly makes no sense

They try to prove you that there's nothing left

Not even yourself.

Emily Yvonne

That lifelong gentle friend of mine, carnivorous loneliness

𝑬𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒚 𝒀𝒗𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆