e. is for eddiction. | Teen Ink

e. is for eddiction.

September 11, 2010
By Taylor.Sangria GOLD, Deltona, Florida
Taylor.Sangria GOLD, Deltona, Florida
10 articles 27 photos 24 comments

i.
dear emilee,

you're beautiful.



i love you.

ii.
dear emilee,

you have the most shocking violet eyes

i believe i've ever seen

they sparkle with life though glazed at times, like a butterfly's wings flecked with dew


on a quiet morning

and though that butterfly would be unable to fly with such dampened wings


your eyes make my heart soar


though you rarely look at me

if i could only cup my hands inside/around/within your irises

and splash my face with such the ferocity that they hold

and hold


1,


2,



3,




4,

if i could only hold you in my arms. . . arms/legs/hands/eyes/mouth

iii.
dear emilee,

i want to place ice in the spaces between your bones

so that, like a cat but much less gaudy,

i might be able to hear you as you approach

as your joints crruun-chh

as a cat is trailed by soft knells


[but everyone knows that cat's have nine lives, and you



only have one even on your best days, sweetheart]

iv.
dear emilee,

you probably didn't know this, dear, but i follow you home from time to time

swiftly through the cornfields, i shadow your sidewalk route



and i listen to you sing softly to yourself



your voice is uneven every time you step,

but beautiful nonetheless



and from your lips she drew the



Hallelujah

v.
dear emilee,

when it's dark outside,

when you come home late with your hair in knots


carrying the scent of sweat/sex/weed/lies
i follow you, and i run past people's houses so i don't catch their nightmares


flying fast out of windows, crashing through



the gauzy curtains like a rogue

vi.
dear emilee,

the track marks on your arms appear sore-ly unattractive

my tracks in the dirt are growing deeper



my eyes burn from the dust i kick up
the dust particles collect on your sclerae/irises/soul like so many moths to a flame


vii.
dear emilee,

oh why did you leave me, dear emilee?

your eyes are open, wide wide open as are the gaping holes in your arm


everyone at your funeral said you looked so lovely

they were right of course, but if they only knew

viii.
oh emilee!

i was addicted to you like no other

when they placed you in the ground/dirt/ditch


i curled up beside you



and, like a stunned spider or a burning leaf


i curled in on myself

and died quiet/dead/gone

The author's comments:
about a girl i once knew.

Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 1 comment.


on Sep. 25 2010 at 9:08 pm
collegegirladventures GOLD, Mequon, Wisconsin
10 articles 8 photos 307 comments

Favorite Quote:
A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep.

~Salman Rushdie

Awww!!!! This is a really sweet poem. I reallylkike this.