Easy is a poem by student and aspiring writer Emilie Ann Holmes. She describes this poem as being about how you think the universe has the worst fate at hand for you. It’s ‘quite a nihilist perception but also about coming to terms with the bitterness of reality’.
I don’t have to blow hard in order to make a wish,
The burning breeze holds my hand and guides my way.
The fog blocked my sight but you were already there; I was foolish,
You were disguised in a knitted hat and gloves though it was the month of May.
Perhaps this was to warm up the bitterness of your heart,
Or maybe even to protect yourself from being a witness of the dark.
But I think it was a half-witted falsehood performance from the start,
However you were the most foolish that the stage embarked.
Because everyone knows you have to be bare backed and free,
In order to see what you truly mean to me.
Perhaps there was optimism in the air that night,
Maybe time had finally been settled and seen?
Or maybe the sun was hitting us quite right,
I think the autumn sky complimented you and me.
It could have been your generous hand with the drink,
Or the perfect remedy of songs on the TV.
It could have been my final pina colada down the sink,
I don’t think it was your vague strumming on your guitar and me,
I don’t believe your insincerity left me yearning for more,
It was the dimming lights as I started slowly walking out of the door.
But the leaves have to fall like my semi-artificial heart,
‘You accelerate me and make me thrive to be free,
But you don’t fit on my body like the calling bird on my knee’
Déjà vu hits me as I leave my thoughts muted and I can no longer see,
I swear I heard the calling voice under my bed,
It repeats in the hard sheets that I lie in,
Maybe it was the constant calling in my head?
But I have to go to sleep as to stay awake would be an eternal sin,
It’s a routine that stabs me with a constant remembrance,
But who can die again and again and still remain to dance?
But don’t worry, my easy friend, it wasn’t the first but I will ward off the last,
Lying is rich when I only lied to myself in blind sight.
Maybe there will be a change in heart before I solidify my past,
But who knows? Maybe it was a test to stop and stare,
Perhaps in tomorrow I will even see you there?