in the absence of the sun

by Emily Curtis

Not quite sure if this is love or just me pretending he is something I should have

up up up where the tears flow, a fresh stream of saltwater down down down down where your darkest days reside, the place in which you feel the end is near, a quick jerk to the left and you have reached the residence of your old friend Denial, she is kind to you, asks you to stay for a while, but you are launched to the right and up up up

again to where days are spent mopping pools of saltwater that once dripped from your eyelashes like oil from a wrecked car, a home for the words “okay” & “fine” & “I’ll get through this” then it evens out, parallel with the horizon and the engine loses life, the ride is now over, please exit to your left and pick up all of your belongings, have a nice day and try never to visit again -the emotional rollercoaster

To cry over spilled milk is completely acceptable -the tears will not end you

They say freedom is expressed through goodbyes “Goodbye,” I say, “Goodbye!”

One word is all it takes to erase the word “Stranger” -hello

There will always be a loose screw or an uneven floorboard -there is no such thing as a perfect life

Why are we constantly told we know nothing of it? it isn’t something we grow into [like our bodies] it is something we have the capability of feeling as soon as we hear our mothers laugh, or our father’s say our name

Empathy tugs lightly on my shirt sleeve and gently whispers in my ear, “they are struggling too”

“Oh what a pity they cannot witness the beauty of a sunrise while parallel to it” -what the birds say when they sing

We forget the beauty in the trees as their leaves turn the color of sunshine -04967

What do I know of love? Nothing. “Teach me,” I begged him, “Teach me”

You have woken me up and convinced me that love is not [Pointless] [Impossible] ...

Falling for you was like rereading my...

You are allowed encouraged to ...

You tear me down like last year’s calendar on New Year’s Day my resolution...

She tells a story with each stroke of paint, and creates masterpieces with her words -...

It is a constant reminder to ignore the bloodshed that spreads like the plague, the gloom that seeps through the ceilings, the disappointment that s...