You Left

you left

I cast a look out of the window.

In this display of continuing lives I see children playing, these ebullient beings, ever so innocent, ever so free. 

They run with elfin faces, letting their feet mangle the leaves with an enlivening crunch; the cry of nature’s presence and of our biased predominance.    

They’re savoring.

I contemplate them, feeling the reminiscence suffusing, letting it enslave me to corrosion. 

A grin crawls out from the crevices of my lips.

They don’t know how much they should cherish those moments of raw liberty. 

Once they do, they will never be emancipated.

© Margaux Emmanuel 

a bird’s haiku

Serenading sky drunken poet in disguise clouds blinded by lies.

© Margaux Emmanuel 

a vision

​Bankrupt fingers abrade lonesome chalkboards. Maimed hearts are stolen by an ephemeral breeze. Wounded minds meditate upon the adrift boats of the past.

Then, thoughts disembogue, and everything around you stealthily disappears.

© Margaux Emmanuel 

breaking shoulders

Fingers drummed against the edge of the suspicious table. A habitual visitor painted my face crimson. Oh dear. The leather of my suitcase unearthed my skin. A sort of wet substance trickled. Couldn’t really notice. 

What’s in this luggage?

Won’t say, sir. 

May I take a look?

Perhaps not sir, perhaps not.

Why not? 

Because some things are too heavy to look at. My cheeks won’t seem so red. My eyes so blue. The leather so brown. 

Everything’ll seem black and white, sir.

Black and white. 

© Margaux Emmanuel 

vacant soul

Suffocating in between four walls

empty

But inside me breathes 

an untamed waterfall 

clemency

in a timeless room 

waiting to pull the trigger 

around noon 

children scream 

stuck in a dark daydream

pills flow out the cracks of the door 

while I am dead, suspiring on the floor.

© Margaux Emmanuel 

rancorous quietude

Soft is the day that towers down upon us. Silken air skims our epidermis, that leather that will soon be numbing and trenchant.

We contemplate the oppression of the clouds. 

Serenely. 

These delicate pillows staying afloat in the azure of the ocean tactlessly shroud the sun, acclimated with lingering in lonesomeness. This combustion, deeply misprized, enumerates every second of our trivialities. 

The mellow hours pass, knifelike, and I succumb to these moments of dancing dolorousness. Warblers carol macabre purities, perched on the tree of estranged formalism, indoctrinated fruit dangling off its branches. 

My tempestuous heart bleeds. 

Tranquilly. 

The daggers of transgression transpierce my unconscious. 

Deliberately. 

Pernicious is the day that towers down upon us. 

© Margaux Emmanuel