Poetry|Creation by Emilie Ann Holmes

Creation is a poem about self-destruction by student and aspiring writer Emilie Ann Holmes.


I sculpt my fractured image of you like Mary Shelley, each time the flat vision awakes,

The lights creeps into the dim room we once used to lay in.

When my head touches the arm, I lock the safe feeling, you tend to create.

And I seem to feel lighter, like my life has no sin.

I build you up, a new creation by night and day,

Even if the images are a scattered loss my four walls remain strong around us.

I set out to ‘go slowly’ but I always force myself to the top,

But when I’m at my highest I fall at a moment of lust.

As the wind grabs my hair, I am at home with your foreign scent,

It blows up in my face but what’s the good in changing me now?

I can’t begin to see what it would be like if I walked on the right side of the road,

Or the day-dreams I would endure not being a ’half-witted whore’.

Long nights and squinted eyes tackle my assigned issue with melancholy,

Because if I wasn’t sad then my life would have no purpose at all.

Purple marks of love and longing hold my hand towards the nearest slumber,

I should, I will tear these habits along with the timeless, winter holly.

‘Handle with care’ is written on the packaging but there is no number.

The closer I am to this feeling the further we fall away,

Time is funny. Years ago, you would have made me overjoyed.

The punch line is that I did this all to myself.

So as conventions go, I will lie here and sleep, but what happens when I can no longer see?

I can’t play, walk or write either because this is in fact the final page.

You can follow Emilie on Instagram

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