Poetry

Weather.

April 4, 2018 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

I feel like the rain is sad today
That maybe it misses you too
And puddles and flooding and rain boots
Are hopeless love letters to you

I think that the sun is angry today
That you go weeks without saying a word
And it’s trying so hard to burn your face
Because at least then it’ll know that it’s heard

I’m sure that the clouds are lonely today
And in that, they’re not alone
I’m gloomy as well, blue, depressed,
Waiting for you to throw me a bone

I’m tired of you controlling the weather, my mind
It’s just too much power for one man
So we all got together, decided we’re better
And will move on the best that we can

Me.

March 14, 2017 by Emily Dill 3 Comments

It’s not time to be me yet
But when it is, you’ll know
I’ll play myself with such gusto
I’ll be me with quite a show

But the timing isn’t quite right
It’s not yet my cue
I don’t know my lines, I don’t feel the part
How do you know when you’re you?

Cinnamon.

January 15, 2017 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

My hands smelled like cinnamon
It was almost Christmastime
You had made me hot chocolate
And the taste was so sublime

You were extra generous
With your smiles that Saturday
You’d said that we were “just hanging out”
And I had said that’d be okay

But as I watched your eyes crinkle
And snow fell from your coat to my floor
As you laughed in that crooked way
I knew that I’d always want more

I had never felt so brave
So confident in both our affection
I took your hand and said some things
And you were confused at this new direction

You eyes clouded over – no more crinkle
You quickly took a step back
Words blew out of your mouth like leaves
As if I’d launched an attack

I stood there as my cocoa grew cool
And my heart did the very same thing
You stumbled and sputtered and mumbled and muttered
Christmas wouldn’t bring what I’d hoped it would bring

My hands smelled like cinnamon
On that December day five years ago
I haven’t seen you since but I’ll always remember
The coldest boy I ever could know

Him.

October 11, 2016 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

And you saw me in my darkness, Lord
When I was full of shame
You encouraged me to come to you
To whisper just your name
To take off my vest of burden
And in the lake of freedom, swim
So when I’m asked what cured me
I’ll smile and just breathe, “Him”

Fight.

May 1, 2016 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

The air was so wet and heavy
I could hardly take a breath
And I flinched as I glanced at the horizon
And saw the colors of death

The sounds of the people around me
Slowly faded out of reach
Replaced by the noise of waves crashing
Of sea gulls at the beach

I was no longer looking at carnage
But you, laid out on the sand
And, now not holding a weapon,
I shyly extended a hand

You pulled me to you and smiled,
Waved your arms at the peaceful view,
Said, “You can never be here if you don’t win there,
So I think you know what you need to do.”

Just like that, I was back again
In the middle of a battle raging on
No more beach, no birds, no beautiful you
My paradise was gone

But my strength had been refreshed and renewed
I was ready to give a little bit more
Because in the middle of the fight, you came to show me
Just why I was fighting this war

You Could Tell.

March 28, 2016 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

I could tell it was you by the way the phone rang
Aggressive, but underneath, unsure

You could tell it was me by the way you got voicemail
Angry and insecure

I could tell it was you when you didn’t leave a message
Arrogant and too good for words

And you could tell it was me when I called you right back
“Hard to get” is for the birds

Writing Wednesday: “Death By Distortion”

March 23, 2016 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

My distorted words
Lead to your aborted lust

And icy rejection turns
My sad skin
And weary bones

To dust.

Coldness.

March 21, 2016 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

Your mouth smiled
But your eyes did not
And you didn’t think I’d see

That when we all walked in
And your eyes darted up
They didn’t go to me

Your hug left inches
Between our chests
Less intimate than a high five

And whatever we had
Took its last breath
The moment you and she came to life

Hues.

March 13, 2016 by Emily Dill Leave a Comment

You leaned in and your mouth tasted red
But your lips were cold and blue
And the yellow of
Your pretend love
Warned of a weakness in you

There was a blackness to your smile
That showed me you’d never be mine
And I would do
While you passed through
But you had someone else to find

I offered you a tepid smile
Trying to hide the green of my need
As I pretended not to care
That a girl out there
Was making your colors bleed

You fumbled through your excuses
But all I could see was the brown
Rough like tree bark
Murky and dark
I let your apology fall to the ground

And when you left for the last time
The purple of your passion shone bright
Your face ablaze
As you ran to face
The one who would set your palette right

Writing Wednesday: “Weekends”

March 2, 2016 by Emily Dill 1 Comment

Midnight always leaves a mark
Mouth going 60, brain in park

Take his hand, take a chance
Pretend you ever learned to dance

Overreact, push him away
Pull him back because you want him to pay

Twirl your hair, tug at your dress
Fake a smile though your makeup’s a mess

Bass is thumping but it’s all too loud
Surrounded by bodies but alone in a crowd

Shedding eyelashes like tears
Some on the table, some in the beers

Swear off drinking, swear off men
Knowing well you’ll do it again

Fall in love every Saturday night
Fall back out when the lights aren’t so bright