Recognizingthevoiceless - Tumblr Posts

And You taught me that maybe, I shouldn't be shaping myself to the expectations of others, just for a morsel of love

And you? You taught me that no one could ever really react to what makes up who I am -- we are all just guessing at the shape and place of all the edges of each other's souls --

And she taught me that the ones that accuse you tend to perpetrate the very things they worry you do --

And the last one, You? Taught me that I can't trust the words "I love you,"

because even when you mean it, believe it with your whole heart, you can be wrong --

and eventually, when you realize, I'll only be left alone again.

Why do lovers have to be lessons?

holding my own hand by judas h. ( @judas-redeemed ) image id in alt

This deserves to blow up! So beautifuly written.

Selfishly, I hope I have left an imprint on your heart - I hope my name is signed on one of the chambers with a lock only I have the key to. I hope when the sun comes through your blinds on Sunday mornings you remember how I would lay there next to you, back bare, my eyes staring into yours. I hope when the girl sitting across from you laughs you think about mine, how it would fill the room and your chest just the same. I hope you look back on the kind of love we had and realize it was a once in a lifetime chapter of the novel you now have to continue writing without me. Selfishly, I hope there’s still time for me to be the one who’s there until the very last page.

If not, help me let you go.

vacant soul

Suffocating in between four walls

empty

But inside me breathes 

an untamed waterfall 

clemency

in a timeless room 

waiting to pull the trigger 

around noon 

children scream 

stuck in a dark daydream

pills flow out the cracks of the door 

while I am dead, suspiring on the floor.

© Margaux Emmanuel 

wannabe ghosts

Specters

fruits of crossroads

wilt from bruises

deep rivulets

wrinkles carved into her face 

hungrily

smile at the lost muses

nebulous eyes

hunted

haunted by ghosts

virile oaths crumble to lies 

piteous floorboards are waxed

feverishly 

discoloring jeans 

a discolored organ pumps blood 

mechanically 

the door will open

free a flood 

yet

a fire alights 

begins to kindle in her lungs 

reminds her

of all their damned tongues

forgotten Prozac

unearths an amnesiac 

she gets up

discovers the phantoms’ tombs

abandoning her scars, she runs

realizing that there’s much more to a woman

than a lifetime

of sewing the dead’s

loose thread

© Margaux Emmanuel 

Hate your love

when you said you liked my curls,

i spent hours

straightening them out.

you complimented

the calm blue of my nails,

so i painted them a fiery red.

then the skirts left my knees bare,

unlike the denim that kept them warm

before you said i looked good in jeans.

and the day your fingers tied

the laces of my high tops,

i replaced them with stilettos,

the heels as sharp as my tongue

slipping poison onto yours.

i didn't mind when your hands

grazed the flesh of my cheek;

after all, i craved it.

i wanted your lips chasing mine,

needing to stain them

the shade of my new lipstick,

wanted the pads of your fingers leaving icy trails

down the heat of my skin.

i craved your touch,

but i resented your affection.

with every change i made,

i swore to never be

what you wanted me to.

entangled in my fabrications,

deceived by a false sense of control,

little did i know,

that you had me

exactly where you wanted me.

i couldn't recognize myself anymore

and you loved every part of me.

i want to know the answers.

the correct ones,

the perfect ones,

the ones that will stop me

from gazing up at my bedroom ceiling

as the night passes by.

i’m afraid, though.

fear crawls up my spine

soaking my skin.

i'm afraid the answer

simply doesn’t exist.

am i in the wrong place?

or an old puzzle piece

unable to fit in the right place

due to edges frayed by time.

in her cruel nature,

she snatches everything away.

like a forest fire,

unrelenting as it turns

lush green to ash grey,

nothing but mournful black land in its wake.

but we can’t blame time,

for cruelty is in her nature.

so we blame ourselves;

i blame myself

for not fitting in,

for not catching up,

for not growing and

shaping myself into the mould

of other’s expectations.

and all I can do is wait

and hope time will do it for me:

hope time will smoothen

my frayed ends

or tear them off entirely—

whatever it takes

to make this the right place;

whatever it takes

to find the perfect answer.

Autumn

the soft pink painted sky

a backdrop

to the viridian mountains

lining the infinite horizon

behind the ochre autumn trees

whose golden leaves fly down

to kiss the solid earth

on which is perched a squirrel

shaped like the pillowy cloud

hiding the orange sun which glows

like your hazel eyes

fixed on mine

as your delicate fingers clasp

my hands gently

stroking my warm skin like

the frigid fingers of the october wind

stroke my hair

blowing around when

you reach out and

tuck the dancing strands

behind my ear and

the silky sound of your laughter

tickles my heart

causing my own to escape

past my lips against which

you press your own

to swallow the sounds

before they get lost in

the soft pink painted sky.

Let go

i want to let go

let go of everything

that's keeping me closed.

i want to untie the knot and unravel the rope

wrapped tight around my body

holding captive

everything that i am.

it tightens further,

squeezing my insides

until my feelings are stuffed into my organs

and my arteries threaten to burst

and bleed blue.

all the frustration tucked into

the nooks and crannies,

coerced out of my heart,

leaving the vessel hollow.

and now it just screams to be filled.

i want to let go and explode,

uncaring of the consequences.

i want to crush

under the soles of my shoes

the titles and expectations

like i did my dreams

for they were 'unrealistic'.

assurances of 'you're still young'

don't comfort me.

let me be young then.

let me be reckless like the rain

as i watch from the safety of my window.

let me live like a storm

that wreaks havoc in a few hours,

the aftermath echoing for years.

i want to be unpredictable

like the weeping clouds that turn

the clementine sky gunmetal grey.

i want to let go.

do i love him or his kisses?

butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

dusting my cheeks with a blush.

do i love him or his compliments?

words pouring over me like silky sweet honey.

cascading down in a delicate melody.

do i love him or his hugs?

warmth spreading through my chest

like a beam of sunshine.

wrapping me up in a cozy blanket.

do I love him or his whispered secrets?

smooth voice leaving a trail

of goosebumps along my skin.

trusting me;

a key securing a lock

do I love him or his hands

clasping mine tightly,

fingers entwined,

murmuring a promise.

do i love him?

or do i love the way he makes me feel?

i wonder what it's like

in that head of yours.

is it waves of sadness

pulling you under till you can't breathe?

or fists of regret

crushing you under their weight?

do claws of guilt pierce your skin,

talons drawing lifeblood?

or do flames of greed lick your arms,

scorching your entire being?

is fear your nicotine?

killing you from the inside out

while life without it is unknown to you?

or does a leash of longing tug at your heart,

as you desperately seek

what it is that you long for?

do red clouds of rage

paint your world bloody?

or does a dark cloak of anxiety

cast a shadow over the rest of us?

do you wear a blindfold of jealousy

until you've worn yourself down?

or a mask of annoyance

shutting us all out?

does loneliness engulf you

in a mocking embrace?

or do you spend your time

struggling to crawl out the grave

you dug yourself?

who's the puppeteer

pulling the strings that lift your smile?

is your smile real?

i hope;

i hope it is.

i hope you see it flicker in your darkness;

i hope you salvage a sliver of it—

of hope.

did i know you?

i still think of you

a passing thought in my mind's traffic.

i pay no attention,

"ignore it and it'll go away"

most days, it works.

but some days, in the dead of the night

when the darkness engulfs

both me and my musings,

it does not work.

it does not work and I reach out,

clutching that thought,

clinging to it

the idea of you.

the you I've built in my head.

the you who's soft as the petals of a rose,

comforting like a cup of warm chocolate.

but it isn't real,

it never was.

the real you pricks me

like the thorns of that very rose;

the real you is cold, indifferent.

or maybe,

i don't know you.

my mind deceives me,

there is no black and white,

only a grey haze.

as my fingers hover over your name on my phone,

i pull them back.

maybe I know you, maybe I don't.

maybe I miss you, but it's not enough.

your thorns have pricked me more than once.

so I still think of you,

but I'll never let you know.

i've gotten so used to it,

living with that buzz in my brain.

the background noise

telling me to move,

do something

it whispers of incomplete tasks and

people lost along the way

i've gotten so used to it though,

that it merely adds

a touch of weight to my shoulders,

disappearing when my mother pulls them back, correcting my posture.

the sound is all but gone

when i'm with my friends,

shouting out the lyrics

of the songs that shaped our childhood,

looking out of the car window

as the glowing lights flash past.

red, white, warm yellow.

the sound is gone

until i'm alone again.

but, still, it's nothing more than a buzz

one i ignore,

telling myself i'm fine.

the new year's given me that:

the ability to believe I'm fine, truly.

i've been walking at the edge of the waves

positivity, optimism, gratitude.

i repeat these, louder than the buzz,

but the waves gently lick at my feet,

threatening to wreck all I've built

the sandcastle standing precariously

on foundations of a new year and hopeful words.

i'm scared of my poetry now.

words i pulled out of my chest

by piercing my heart with thorns and needles

until they spilled out,

red and raw.

but i've decided to do it anyway.

pick up the pen

and momentarily

invite the buzz into the foreground.

dig holes that welcome the sea in streams

into the moat around my sandcastle.

it's a new year

so i've decided to trust myself.

trust that i can control the stream.

trust that my words won't drown me

and if they do—

trust that i can get back up to the surface.

idc

I don't care

I draw hard lines in the sand

Only to watch them swept up by waves

I don't care

I say to myself as I watch you

And her do the same things we did

I don't care

I tell myself as I see

your name on my screen

I don't care

I think as the songs fill my ears

And your face fills my mind

I don't care

I tell my friends

when you come up in a conversation

Because to admit

the opposite is weakness

It's giving in to you

It's disappointing myself

It's all the times

I went running back to you

when I knew exactly how it would end.

In a twisted knot

begging to be untangled

In nothing more than grey,

nothing more than ashes and dust.

I don't care

I don't care

I don't care

I repeat

Until the words lose their meaning

Until you're nothing

but a faded photograph

Until I can't remember

the exact sound of your voice

Until I can't recall

the things we used to talk about

Until you're nothing

but an afterthought.

ghost of you

a lingering touch on my arm

a quick hug against your side.

gently, you interlace your fingers with mine

just as gently, you press a kiss to my temple.

your thumbs catch the tears on my cheek

and your arms hold me tight against your chest.

your sweet words bring a smile to my face

and your low voice brings an ache to my stomach.

i miss you

deeply, terribly, painfully.

i miss you, yet i don't even know you.

maybe one day i'll meet you

or someone like you,

and i can finally tell them the words

i so desperately wish to say to you.

i am aching

for a life that is impossible

filled with only the best parts

of books and movies

of green fields and blue skies

of stolen kisses and whispered secrets

i want the pretty rain and soft snow

to return home to a lover's embrace

and food on the table

i want purple clouds and silver stars,

yellow trees and golden air.

i want the world to be rose-tinted and

tinged with summer

the smell of books mixed with that of the rain

white fluffy sheets and hot chocolate

glowing hair and swollen lips

happiness and that's all.

i'm starting to run out of fingers

to count the amount of times

you've made my heart flutter in its cage.

a gentle brush of shoulders

or an insult mixed in with smiles

when you grab my arm

to stop me from doing something stupid

or you shake my hand

and hold it for a second too long.

the sound of my name from your lips

carries with it more weight

than the two syllables ever held

and i can't help but want to know you

to travel the paths that led you here

to read the map which points

towards the mountains you've climbed

and the rivers you've swam across.

i want to know what you've left behind

and the secrets you're hiding

i want to know

if you prefer moonlight

to bright yellow sunshine.

dogs or cats? pink or blue?

an endless list of questions

i want more

and more

like a book whose pages are yet to be filled

and i'll wait for you to write down your stories

until we run out of paper and ink

death by a thousand cuts

a slight sting is all i feel

when your words fall like darts

against the piece of my soul

that i bared to you

you turn another blind eye to me

and i make another excuse for you

another brick on the wall of defense

i've built around your name

should i beg for your love?

get down on my knees

and ask you, "please?"

please love me

like i love the sky

in all its hues and shades

please accept me

with my deformed clouds

and flashes of rain

but all i get are safety pins

piercing my skin

over and over again

you hurt me in ways

i can't seem to name

we seem to be doing just fine

until we're not

and you say our end came out of nowhere

but it was death by a thousand cuts

Was it out of comfort that we stayed together? Because when I think back to us, I only remember a sense of warmth, of not having to think before I speak or worry about what you’d think of me. I can’t think of the reasons I loved you or the reasons you loved me. ‘Best friends’ – the two words that kept us tied together but separated by a line. A line drawn in the sand near the waves; a line we might have unknowingly crossed countless times. Maybe during the five-hour phone calls at midnight or a heart emoji at the end of a text, one that meant a lot more than it should have. But at 16, you were the only love I knew. At 19, you slip into my mind sometimes, and I smile back at the years that have passed. I sometimes think of what could have been, but she’s made my life a lot easier. You’re with her now, and the line is a firm one, carved into wood, and a boundary clearly established. A line that has reduced us to old friends who keep in touch.