Old Songs

I walked into nature alone today and immediately felt the breeze envelop me the sound of the brook babbling trees whistling and whispering to me my phone still had a signal a song came on one I have sung a thousand times before but this time it created a swell of memories I had pushed…


I’m not proud of myself for becoming like them;addicted to tiny blips of self-gratification,vacant validation.I have lamented my losses,burned countless bridges,all for the sake of self-protection.I wonder if I have it in meto see what someone offers,accept it gratefully. Then I remember.I don’t feel entitled to be a bitch,despite subjection to tinyand massive heartbreaks. Is it so…


She pretends she knows how to be in love again, knowing what the last time was like, an emptiness, thinking of what could’ve been, years wasted with hopes of renewed love, attempts, endless, new prospects, dimming with the fading sun. Emily C. Poésie © 2018 Photo Credit


I’m free, in all the ways I wished, a paper with my former name, seal of approval, have it changed, and when I do, I’ll think of them, my true family. Emily ©


Signed the paper today to restore my name, had yours on borrowed time, took it on when the time came, believing in what it meant, seemed a silly fantasy, at least that’s what I’ll say, after the chips fell wherever they willed, It’s been too long since having mine. Emily©


Faded as I shouldn’t be, my principles seek clarity, my heart can’t take the pain I’ve felt in recent days, months, years, decades; it compounds when each new loss is felt, opening wounds once thought mended, knowing it’s a ruse to believe; moving on should be easy. Emily©


I saw him today, my best friend of a decade, now strangers making small talk, unknown to each other, still a father to my daughter, no longer my lover, all long since passed, deep seated anger, hurt at what transpired, rebuilding my empire; a tiny cottage. Emily©


Not in a good place, when I isolate, my safe space to protect from shattering, under the pressure of years of struggle, mixed in with survival, not all bad, I’m just tired, and deep down I still wonder, if I’m just too hurt. Emily ©

Try Outs

It’s easy to write about pain, though pain often is the result of a beautiful hope, in something unknown, in something new, yet wise enough to see what is you, and not be afraid. Fear can also be pain, innocence lost, stepping without seeing carries too great a cost, yet we still sometimes do, it…


I have strength inside me yet – walls were climbed, placed in front of me repeatedly, some handled less than gracefully, unwilling to decide it was my time to give up, even when I felt others give up on me, their rejection and abandonment I needed to see, not always about me, complex matters causing…