Written by Emily Tasker
Photo by Autumn McDonald
To feel anything, I must write everything; but, to write anything, I must feel everything- this is something I learnt over a very brief period of time, I write here and there; but in the months of December and January, I realized that i need to be completely open with myself if I am ever to begin again. This is writing from the deepest parts of me.
Everything moved at different times. I didn’t know what to think; or how to cope, but then came you and then came the peace.
-high.
I never thought one person could create so much pain, so much destruction, so much sadness and confusion
Yet, here you are.
I remember once, I asked you what you would describe out love as. You said it was unquenchable- like a never ending bucket. Well my dear, that bucket found an end.
Temporary- never have I heard a word that both scares me and makes me relieved at the same time.
The first time you kissed me, you tasted like alcohol and late nights.
The last time you kissed me, you tasted of nothing and lost hopes.
People hurt me in such a way that it feels like vinegar is being poured into an open wound.
They hurt me like that then apologize, knowing that I will forgive them, because Im weak like that.
-people can be unkind sometimes.
Everyone you meet in life is a bad person in some shape or form, we just have to learn to accept it.
First of all, fuck you; you broke me.
Second of all, treat her better.
My parents always lecture me about hickeys; even when I don’t have them upon my skin, but, I don’t understand because in reality, hickeys aren’t all bad- they’re the only bruises that stem from love instead of hate.
Its 2am. I am awake, I am drunk and you’re perfect. And in the morning, I will no longer be drunk but you, you will still be perfect.
Frightened, worried, confused; all these words, describe how I’m feeling, whilst falling again.
Sometimes the silence is the only form of communication needed.
I now speak directly to you, I hope kissing her reminds you of me. I hope it reminds you that placing your lips on another should feel special. Not lustful and pointless.
Tonight, I stood in the shower. I listened to old songs. I picked up a sponge, topped it with soap, pushed the shower head aside and started scrubbing. I scrubbed every inch, every part of me, that had been touched by any part of you. I put on a song that you had introduced me to and I swore to myself that this would be the end, this was the last time I was going to listen to that song. It played through while I rinsed you from my skin, taking in every word, every note for the last time. Coming to the end, I turned off the water, stepped out into the cold air, I looked in the mirror and my clean, naked body and as the song came to a close, as the last word died out, I did something I have not done for a long time;
I breathed.
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