Emily Shmyr's Portfolio

Nebula’s Memoir II

Creative Writing: Poetry

Image Source: Pinterest

Chipped Teacups

One, two, three, four.
We sit in perfectly placed rows
Hidden in the darkness,
Waiting.
For someone to open the door.
We hear the screams of our friends
As they abuse them like powerful tyrants

One, two, three.
The door has opened once.
Stealing souls of our past lovers
Oh, couldn’t we see?
Maybe an open door is not worth it,
Escape.


One, two.
We enjoy the darkness now.
It brings us comfort and warmth
But we know someone will lose,
For we feel the heat of the firefly liquid that
breaks the
Ones that have reached the unknown.

One,
Alone or so it seems,
Haunted by the sounds of the friends
Wishing for the light of the sun.
Forever lost, blind in dreams
Simply shattered, broken, in a piece or two.
Our bodies fractured beyond repair,
Unloved.
Used without care.

None,
No perfect rows. No happy friends.
Ruins of glass and songs left unsung.
Dust in the cabinet
Death on the floor.
Silence is present.
Cups in darkness
Gone, without woe.

All from opening,
The cabinet door.

Achilles and Patroclus

the sun and the moon

one of warmth, one of comfort
so far, yet near
lost in a hero’s war, with villain’s truth
strong in the fresh morning’s light,
the quiet snow of winter’s ghost
growing tired of battle in heart
wishing they could be held close without fear.

the sun and the moon

half a soul, yet never in sight
ethereal, mysterious
hopeful, hopeless
the optimist, the dreamer
the pessimistic, the realist
pushing forward to feel their grasp
slipping through fingertips like sand and broken glass

the sun and the moon

reaching for darkness
searching for light
the rise and the fall
love in silence,
love in death
with heaven’s that sing
with hell filled with grief
stretching palms in hopes that one day they will meet
grief in isolation breaks into earth
as one moves galaxies,
as one lies in dirt

the sun and the moon

two shadows, twin flames
lost in the twilight connected by stars
and the clouds of evening’s shame
hands slip together like the passing of time
one rises above, one falls below
for love without sacrifice, is like a tree with no leaves
bare to the bones, whittled with knots
hoping to grow and rebloom with ease
ticking with times as an old ancient clock
soft, beautiful breath of the bright
buried in death of the mid black night

the sun and the moon

one filled with glow, one repleted with solace
faintest of touch, beauty of pain
poet’s who author their stories
the one who dreams of fame
the one who wishes for happiness
and the wanderers of ocean’s breeze
sun-kissed skin, sea salt lips
the final exhale of goodbye’s kiss

tell me the story

of the ones that died
so, their lovers could rise
in hopes that once through grief and sorrow
their lights would carry forward hands
meeting again in the grace of the afterglow.
the one of warmth, the one of comfort,

the sun and the moon

The Rusting Machine

Fear of failure
The never-ending devil that sits on your shoulders
The goosebumps on your arms
The shiver down your spine
In your head
Always a state of mind

Smile you are fine
Show no pain
Show no sin
No one needs to know the demons within
Haunting, crawling, breaking your bones

Use your makeup
Paint your face
Be perfect but don’t be fake
No one cares about that heavy weight

Hide it well
Just be okay
Force yourself to be that beautiful doll
Placed perfectly on a shelf, an empty shell
It’s alright
As long as their happy, you’ll be just fine
A personal hell,
Where no one can see you cry

Don’t be a freak
Wipe those tears
Run, be free, escape
Just make sure to hide everything in deep

Stop your shaking hands
And then your racing heart
You’re just nervous
Don’t worry, just do your purpose

Make yourself calm,
The ringing in your ears
The ticking time bomb
Shake it off, push forward
It will pass, move on
No need to break like glass

Like the drop of a hat
Comes like a wave
You’re worthless
Unperfect
A burden of shame
Now put yourself together

Glue the pieces that shattered
Into a million or two
A band aid will fix that
Yes,
That will do.

Conceal it
Let time pass
No one wants to step on your
Broken glass

It will be okay
Or at least that’s what the hopeful said
For now, take a breath
Be gracious, and let yourself beam
Remember that no one dares to look
Inside the machine.