I remember wishing for a boy who'd photograph me for the hell of it
I got one
He went days without speaking to me to punish my nights out alone
He plucked my strings to keep me home
He locked himself in a bathroom, deaf to my protest, when he told me I fucked old friends in bar bathrooms
I lost friends
I remember wishing for a boy as light as the sun
I got one
He yelled at me when I cut myself
We did too much cocaine
I saw my Peter Pan quail at responsibility while he brought me flowers
He kicked the bed til I woke up, he drunkenly read 4-year-old messages
And wanted to know who "this new dude" was
When I left him, he tweaked my tit in a bar while we sobbed
I wanted the boy who left the feeling of home never satisfied in my chest
I got him
He holds me accountable and holds my world in his hands
He is soft and hardness personified when I dissolve
He is protector and protected and critic and patron
He is that which makes me know
I would be fine, thrive without him
But would much prefer
His strong hand in mine
I did not need men to know myself
But I know myself with this man
He is constant reminder
That I am whole
Regardless
About the Creator
Emily Miller
28 year old artist, art therapist, & kind-of writer. I wrote prolifically when I was younger, and publishing here is my attempt to get back to that first love. I write non-fiction, life-based prose.
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Wyoming
The plains roll like the ocean here. Green, tan, brown in undulating patterns stretching farther than the horizon. Cattle dot black specs across public land; an occasional camel, elk, llama. A rancher’s mansion sits nestled into a hill twenty miles south of Cheyenne, where Wyoming meets the Colorado border, a twenty-foot high cross declaring it God’s Country. A buffalo sculpture juts into the sky not far beyond.
By Emily Miller7 years ago in Poets
The Business of Nature
Dew drops reflected the light of the sun. The inhabitants of Whispering Woods woke up to the golden droplets of water on the leaves of the flora. The oaks particularly enjoyed the light and the maples did, too. Happiness enveloped all who lived there, even the rocks that cried out in the night delighted in the morning.
By Skyler Saundersabout 14 hours ago in Fiction
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