Autumn’s flame dances in my eyes

Clove Smoke Catharsis

I love watching it escape your mouth.
Curling over itself on its way up into the air.
The smoke.
Guessing which direction it will go next. Guessing
when I will see you next.
There’s no real answer either way, is there.
It’s strange. I can’t feel cold anymore.
At least not now, outside. Isn’t it cold.
I’m shaking, but I can’t feel it.
Do you do that to me? It must be you.
I take the fact that we are socially unacceptable
and feed it until it gets so big,
I can’t get away. I love it.
Those deadly burning chemicals make me feel safe,
in a sense. A sense of temporary security.
Behind that cloud is you, and
every day I worry about you.
About you blowing away as fast as your smoke did last night.
As far as it did last night.
Take me with you if you blow away, because without you
I am nothing more than the wind that takes you away from me.

—Emily Rawson

White Noise 

I do have something against white walls.
White walls like winter.
White like your eyes the last time I saw them.
The last time I saw you, they were closed
as you laid there, motionless.
Your chest moved up and down when you were breathing,
But you weren’t really. No matter how much I believed it.
Last time I saw you that peaceful,
you really were sleeping.
I wish you were now.
Sleeping like the tree in our backyard in winter.
Covered in the same white powder that covers your existence now.
That covers the place you sleep now. Forever.
White like these walls that I hate.
The ones that follow me everywhere I go.
I do have something against white walls.
The ones that remind me you’re never coming back. 

—Emily Rawson.

I did not work particularly hard on this poem, mainly because it doesn’t take that long for me to write them. I am a poet, when I get inspiration I just keep writing and see what I get. If it’s bad, I redo it. For some reason, poetry comes easy to me and I like that. Sometimes it takes a while to get me going, but not today. The overall obvious feelings of this poem are sad, but also somewhat peaceful in a sense. I did use a few similes in my poem, the first being “White walls like winter.” That’s about the only poetic device I used though.  

White Noise 

I do have something against white walls.
White walls like winter.
White like your eyes the last time I saw them.
The last time I saw you, they were closed
as you laid there, motionless.
Your chest moved up and down when you were breathing,
But you weren’t really. No matter how much I believed it.
Last time I saw you that peaceful,
you really were sleeping.
I wish you were now.
Sleeping like the tree in our backyard in winter.
Covered in the same white powder that covers your existence
now.That covers the place you sleep now. Forever.
White like these walls that I hate.
The ones that follow me everywhere I go.
I do have something against white walls.
The ones that remind me you’re never coming back. 

—Emily Rawson.

I did not work particularly hard on this poem, mainly because it doesn’t take that long for me to write them. I am a poet, when I get inspiration I just keep writing and see what I get. If it’s bad, I redo it. For some reason, poetry comes easy to me and I like that. Sometimes it takes a while to get me going, but not today. The overall obvious feelings of this poem are sad, but also somewhat peaceful in a sense. I did use a few similes in my poem, the first being “White walls like winter.” That’s about the only poetic device I used though.