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Literature
Humans
She likes to think she could bury him. She likes to imagine a place she can visit and know he is near, even if it’s only skin and bones. At least he’d be near. But, she imagines him lying in a field somewhere in France, his beautiful skin ravaged by different carrion. She imagines him alone and it kills her more than the telegraph did.
How out of place that telegraph had seemed. It came on a perfectly ordinary Wednesday morning. Shouldn’t the world have ended the moment he stopped breathing? Shouldn’t she have known? Why had she needed a telegraph to tell her the news, when she should have felt it?
Her mother, a self-proclaimed expert in all matters of the heart, tells her she’s in denial and that’s why she hasn’t cried yet.
She isn’t, though. She knows exactly what had happened. She isn’t expecting him to come home, to start breathing again. But, she can’t understand why she hadn’t gone when he did. It’s not that
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Literature
Who You Were Is No Longer Who You Are
They washed away the blood you left on the pavement; the rest of what you were slowly circling down a sewage drain. I'm two blocks from where you last stood, drinking a vodka cranberry, reflecting on how alive I am compared to how dead you are. I drink and I drink and it seems funny to me that only a matter of seconds can rip away a life, leave it leaking onto the Earth where I walk.
I don't know who you were.
I don't know what your name was.
I drink some more.
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith
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Literature
Beautiful Things
The destination, the final resting place
for all beautiful things
is covered in tragedy.
In a plethora of "too much"
"too little"
"too late."
Tragic circumstances bred from the consequences of having a beautiful face
beautiful words
a beautiful way of viewing the world.
The place in which we live
is not capable of holding beautiful things.
They always turn to black
to pain
inwardly reaching for something they've lost, but had before, grasped before
                  right out of reach
falling
to a beautiful death
of their own doing.
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith
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Literature
How To Read Your Heart
look at what your mind reflects upon,
what it aches to always remember;
next, look at what it so diligently chooses to forget.
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith
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Literature
A Silent Specter
For the third time that week, something dragged her from the bowels of sleep, thrust her from her dreams into a fear inducing state of sleep paralysis. For what seemed like long, taxing minutes, she rose from the depths of dreams, struggling to open her eyelids, knowing she must wake up. Must wake up. Slowly, bit by bit, her body became hers again. She could breathe.
What had awaken her, she had no clue. There was merely a black space, a fear left in the back of her brain that told her to turn on the light--to check closets and underneath beds for unseen monsters.
Awake, she decide to make tea, hoping the warm liquid would soothe her back to sleep. When that didn't work, she curled onto the couch, a blanket over her lap and her fingers grasping the latest book she'd decided to read. Pages became chapters, her mind waking further with each passing scene rather than growing weary. At half past five, she watched the sun rise, a cup of coffee in hand. Stars disappeared from the blue
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 7 10
Literature
Heritages
stuck
more than nothing
less than a whole
blood scattered across the globe
steps sunken into deserts, mountains, and rivers.
who had a touch like mine?
a voice like mine?
I come from a line of warriors, healers,
              cowards.
I come from a people of pain
shown not through my ancestral records
but the palms of my hands
the brown of my eyes.
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith
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Literature
Stroke the fire
Stroke the fire
feel it burn
cleansing all the poisonous bits that can't be scrubbed away--
thrusting a purer sense of being out of the ashes.
After destruction comes beauty
the smallest flower appearing from a lava bed.
After death comes life,
a newfound knowledge
of love and history.
It's amazing the pain
a body can take
to make something new.
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 3 2
Sometimes I look cheesy by losingmyfaith Sometimes I look cheesy :iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 0 2
Literature
Navigation-C
I close my eyes and all I see is snow-capped mountains, waterfalls rushing to the tune of our rotation, star-filled nights. We are alone. No one can touch us here, can tear your hand away from mine. We're just laughter and soft silhouettes, our shadows blending into the background. Your fingers through my hair and you whisper you love me and everything is okay, everything is where it should be.
the night outside is cold, and the spark thats jumping between us is too delicate to be left out in this lack of oxygen. but theres something in the stars tonight that seems to tell me that the waves in my chest aren't going to be lasting too much longer. you've got aloe vera fingertips, and they're soothing inside and outside of me.
I count to ten and close my eyes, wondering if you'll still be here when they open again. I count the seconds, days, months, fervantly waiting for the afternoon I come home and find a message from you signed all my love and goodbye until you kiss away my fears and w
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith
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Literature
Sanctuary
I want you to love me when I cannot love myself. I need you to be my sacred space, my sanctuary away from the noise, silent and forgiving. Silent.
I don't breathe the same without you; my veins don't beat unless they are beside yours. We work in synchronous motion, thoughts running from one mind to the other.
From your pages to my fingertips, I find myself, an identity hidden within the corners and spines of all the books I've read and all I will never get the chance to.
Silent.
I am nothing without your beauty, your gentleness, your prose littered with meaning and lessons to guide me through the various stages of my life when I cannot guide myself.
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Literature
Senorita with long black hair
Señorita with long black hair, you hold hands with men that forget your name after one dance; men whose last names are no place with dreams of making it like the white boys do. Señorita with the dark brown eyes, you are like a sparrow in the night, trying to take flight by the light of the moon, escape the only word on your mind. You look for love in the songs your papa sang to you, songs about heat and hard work and home. Señorita with the dusty soil coloured hands, you attempt to grasp both sides of your identity with one hand, the borders in your body ripping you apart. Señorita with the heavy spirit, you trust no one after seeing everyone you love walk-run away, leaving you behind with people who don't understand, people who think you're just another dirty Hispanic, your name like tin on their hateful lips. Such long steps you take, leaden down with weights you didn't ask for. Is this the American dream you were promised?
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith
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Literature
The Difference in Reality
Reality is
as reality does.
Who is to say reality is the same
or different
or anything but completely subjective and random.
I made you
built you up to be something majestic
      someone worth loving.
So when you turned out to be something I hadn't thought you to be
I crashed
and realized what I perceived to be true
was only a figment of my overactive
desperate imagination
          and now I miss someone who had never existed.
Perhaps being human means we will always let ourselves down more than others ever could.
Perhaps it means our personal realities will always lead to disappointment.
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 6 10
Literature
Once Upon Another Time
I see you and it's almost as if my world stops turning, my rotation stops and I'm left grasping the edges as you ask me how I'm doing, completely oblivious to the way you make me feel. It's taking me longer to forget, taking me longer to say goodbye to those dreams I dreamt late at night with the stars in my eyes and the world in the palm of my hand.
I would have given you the moon, darling.
There's a photograph on my bulletin board of a sunrise over a mountain range. Family members I've never met took the photo, their memories attached to that sunrise, but lost over time. I look at the photo and think of all the places I could go--will go--as I grow older. I would have loved to see the sunrise with you.
Sometimes I wonder if it's not you I miss, it's the you I made you out to be in all of those dreams. Then I see her hold your hand, tell you she loves you, and I know it's you. Only you. I mourn for that which never came to be, but which felt so real.
I just need some more time to get
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith
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Literature
Searched
searched for you in all the hidden places
between webs and grass
in the spaces where light meets dark
and the horizon kisses the setting sun.
searched for you in every language
called out every name I knew you by.
        to no avail.
you were waiting
patient
for me to find you
        in a place you'd always been--
inside of me.
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 8 4
Literature
Knew You
I knew you
like rain knows wet
desert knows heat--
you were a war
violently destructive to your opposition
bloody, intolerable.
I knew you
through the battles you waged
the way in which you tied my identity to yours
as you shot me
       down.
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 5 3
Literature
I'm Gonna Love You
was a time
I knew you like a lover
kept you hidden
secret
safe between my heart & my head
I held you
dreamt you
made you my own.
was a time
I believed you
in you
in everything:
seismic shifts broke you
tore you
away from me--
loss so deep
I couldn't breathe
you.
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 9 0

Random Favourites

Literature
love is a double edged sword.
Dear Daddy,
I have seen what you used to be. I have peeled back your tragic skin and found long hair and bright eyes and brighter dreams hiding underneath. I have seen the photographs and I have heard your laugh, a laugh that tears apart reality and recreates it in the technicolor hues of a 60's dreamscape. I have uncovered the corners of your dreams and brushed away the dust and you are beautiful, somewhere under the tired eyes and lined skin you shine like a beacon in a cloudy night.
I know that this is not what you wanted. I know that you dreamed of Hollywood and kingdoms built on the words you spilled across so many pages from the trapdoors in your fingers. I know you wanted friends and prestige and to retire in the mountains. I know you wanted to change the world, and I also know this isn't what you had in mind. I know I'm not what you had in mind.
You are not long hair and bright eyes anymore. You are not dreaming of Hollywood or a world that was better because you were in
:iconpapergirl88:papergirl88
:iconpapergirl88:papergirl88 10 8
Literature
i did.
i.
                  there is
                 a
                            vintage lace dress
                                     that once was
                                                  white like
       
:iconpapergirl88:papergirl88
:iconpapergirl88:papergirl88 50 50
Vintage Tea by WildWinyan Vintage Tea :iconwildwinyan:WildWinyan 2,417 370
Literature
Spring Thunderstorm
Clouds gather
above a shivering landscape,
and it's time for our lips
to cease the utterance
of empty words.
Raindrops find their way
through open windows,
and the drapes caress the wind
as my fingertips discover
the heat of your skin.
The sky ignites
between our lips,
and in your eyes I see
the universe.
Stars burning,
thunder rolling,
infinity forever shifting
between us.
Lightning strikes,
and our hearts are no longer
timid metronomes,
but a thunderstorm of early Spring;
holding eternity within
every drop of rain.
:iconRawPoetry:RawPoetry
:iconrawpoetry:RawPoetry 20 42
Literature
quitter
you were nicotine
and came packaged with
all the obvious warnings;
i'd always been lustful
for incense smoke
wisps curling into
the air and not
being able to breathe
and open heart
surgeries.
it was you
who was tempted
by the cleanness of
my red and yellow
insides, by the virgin
state of everything that
i was, wanting cerulean
straps and lilac frills
to glide just within
your pink mouth.
the damages were
gruesome, soaked in bile
and smeared across canvas
with precise and dirty hands.
i thought you would
one day want to be more
than hope scrawled
down my inner thigh
and a whore sitting
in the bottom of
my lungs.
but you slipped
between my fingers
and i ground you
under my heel.
:iconqueenofrelax:queenofrelax
:iconqueenofrelax:queenofrelax 29 24
Journal
Literary Visionaries Weekly Literature Feature #1
:iconliterary-visions:
Literary-Visionaries Weekly Literature Feature
Week One
Blasphemy
by crimsoncosmos

Powerful, emotional and unique
this piece will grab the readers
attention and leave them captivated.

Featured by:  storyofmylife054
Two Pairs of Pants
by Dani-the-Naiad

The author manages to express love
through unique imagery and with a new
perspective that comes alive on the page.

Featured by:  Caity-Kitten
straight as a.Rainbow
by HarlequinnGun

Through the combination of beautiful language
and intriguing structure, this poem is a
poignant expression of love, literature
and how the two become entangled

Featured by:  theghostofher
staggering and struggling
by eloquence-fair

This beautifully written poem
speaks straight from the heart of
its author and displays a raw, real
and relatable quali
:iconLiterary-Visionaries:Literary-Visionaries
:iconliterary-visionaries:Literary-Visionaries 16 6
Literature
Beacon
"Beacon"
solar flare
overwhelming my sight
yet seeing
everything before me
the moment of passing
my lips frozen in time
uttering
the last thought of you
sending it out
on waves of ether
hoping you will stay
and not join me
where I do not know
for I will be lost
if you try
when I need you
as the beacon
that will guide me
forever there when
your time arrives
and then
shall we rise
together
:iconJade-Pandora:Jade-Pandora
:iconjade-pandora:Jade-Pandora 6 3
Literature
submarines and atlantic views
sometimes we forget but
there are no beautiful words to put what you've done in perspective
because what you've done is what you are, ugly.
and you have completely ruined me.
this isn't something that goes with the perfect summer breeze or the music
of the punch drunk lovers. but i can't leave you, like the kitten and the ball of string.
i am too young and soon i won't look the same-
to you.
how long is long?
oh sweetheart, how long is a piece of string.
sometimes i'll wonder where we went wrong, but i already know.
and i don't want to know because i want you.
:iconcrashcoursewomb:crashcoursewomb
:iconcrashcoursewomb:crashcoursewomb 6 4
Literature
to you, whom i love
you, whom i love:
i want to kiss you like
it hurts not to
and paint you over
my skin until you
are my latest
tattoo.
you, whom i love -
your heart all over me,
worn like a sundress in
yellows and whites:
we will keep a thick volume
empty of words but full of potential
to the left of our bed.
each morning, a precursory search
of our sheaths of skin
will tell us the secrets
of words scrawled in ink,
transcribed from
semi-consciousness
to body
and sewn into
our coats.
you, whom i love -
tan on my skin and wave in my hair:
you are the stuff
from which poetry
is made
and i don't know if that is okay;
i want to build and break
myself so near you
that we melt together
and i don't know if that is okay.
to you, whom i love:
i went to bed
last night,
wanting nothing more
than to fall asleep
alone
and waking
with you in it.
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed
:iconohsostarryeyed:ohsostarryeyed 249 72
Literature
staggering and struggling
01.
yesterday, i wrote
your name on a slip of paper
and folded it into an origami star.
it hangs on my bonsai tree
(little trees for big
wishes) as a just-in-case hope
for those times when it feels like
absolutely nothing
can make me
happy.
sometimes, when even stars
and little trees aren't
enough to make me happy, i cut
down the paper stars and pretend
that it is a meteorite shower in my
bedroom, but sometimes that
just makes it worse
because i realize
that shooting stars are actually
falling stars;
we are all just stars that have
forgotten the happy-thoughts that
made us fly,
it's just that some of us are blazing and beautiful
before we burn out. and die.
- -
02.
i can write disorderly words with random indents
and call it "poem", and
people will still say
they like it
because we all know
what it's like to be unhappy
and there is nothing
unhappy people like better
than making people
happy.

i can jump over my own leg and
touch my toes if i really try,
but i can't stop being ter
:iconeloquence-fair:eloquence-fair
:iconeloquence-fair:eloquence-fair 245 57
Literature
Life Imitating Art
perhaps i knew you in another life.
i attempt to discern the strangest
inclinations, the most confusing
sentiments, swirling about my mind
playing mozart, summoning kandinsky,
as the walls gain color
          and the music gives life.
perhaps i met you between the
      covers of a paperback novel.
you weave through the fibers of
my soul, like a tapestry of hues
created by the gods themselves.
maybe i am selfish to think such
a masterpiece of art was created
simply for my benefit.
i would like to think it was
      created for us both.
the wind whispers secrets
and the breeze tells tales of
the days before we met.
wistful, bittersweet their symphony
until the melody gains life and
the vibrant combination of strings
and woodwinds builds to a crescendo.
and in the silence
    in the spaces in-between.
there you are.
like tchaikovsky waltzing with renoir
and b
:iconpeterdawes:peterdawes
:iconpeterdawes:peterdawes 11 6

Groups

Activity


It's always odd logging into this site after being away for so long. It's kind of like a strange returning home.

I continue to receive so very many nice comments about my work and my gallery here. Y'all can't know how much I appreciate it. 

I'm bored at work, so figured it would be a good time to update anyone still here that followed me. My life is good right now. It's...life. 

Let's back up. So, last May, I graduated with a Bachelors in English and History. I thought I would be going to grad school, but it wasn't in the cards yet. So, I ended up getting a job at my university. For the past year, I've been supervising the Tutoring and Writing Center, so I've been working with the peers that I worked with before, just as their boss. Super strange. I also got the chance to teach. It was amazing and solidified my life goals. 

I reapplied to grad school and, lo and behold, I'm moving to Austin, Texas to pursue my Ph.D in English literature. Crazy stuff. I move in August, which is just insane to me. It's definitely a new adventure; one that, now, I'm ready for. I don't think I would have been ready last year. So, this year off has been a good thing. It's weird to think that I have to say goodbye to people. Goodbye doesn't necessarily mean "I'm never going to talk to you again," but it does indicate that for some length of time, I won't see these people. I won't be able to call them up and say, 'Hey, let's get dinner.' Because I'll be in Texas and they'll be in New York or here. 

Crazy. 

I joined this site when I was 17. This summer, I'll turn 24. So much has changed. I'll admit, I've gone through my gallery once since my hiatus, and I can still pinpoint the time of my life a certain piece stems from. I've grown so much; the woman I am now is, at times, only barely reflected in my work here. Sometimes, I wish I could go back to that girl and tell her, "It's all going to work out in the end. You're going to survive this. This heartbreak, this loss, it's going to make you incredibly strong and capable." But, I know that telling myself these things wouldn't have mattered. Because sometimes we have to go through the struggles. We have to hurt and break and bleed in order to appreciate the what comes next. 

I truly hope everyone here is doing well. Thank you so much for the support. Love you all. 

--Emily 

deviantID

losingmyfaith
Emily
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
I am twenty-one years old and both an English/History major at my university. I'm also the Editor-in-Chief for our campus newspaper, as well as an intern for our literary journal. The English language has fascinated me since I was a little girl. I devoured books left and right, and still do when I have the time. I didn't start properly writing until the summer before I went into eighth grade. I'd written a couple things here and there (tales that are quite hilarious to read in retrospect), but that summer I found a love for poetry--a love that's kept with me ever since. Obviously, I've grown as a writer over the years, and my style of writing has changed a lot. Even looking here on d/A at the pieces I submitted that first year compared to the pieces I submit now, the differences in my style of writing has changed drastically.

Writing and reading are not my only loves, though. I love British television far more than I should, adore the French language and studied it for six years in school (and would hope to start studying it again soon), I love coffee (local cafes, starbucks, etc), I love living by a lake because it's beautiful and I've always been drawn to the water, I love philosophy and find it quite interesting, I also love astronomy and find it equally interesting, and I'm quite in love with editing. If you need someone to be looked over, I'm your girl. That's why working at my uni's writing center is so perfect for me! I love music; I delve into every genre. I have one tattoo and nine (ish) piercings. I love horror movies...especially ones with zombies. Because zombies are amazing.

Some of my favourite bands/singers include: Three Days Grace, Breaking Benjamin, Thirty Seconds to Mars, Josh Groban, Bright Eyes, Beirut, Fleet Foxes, Locksley, Passion Pit, Ellie Goulding, Lady Gaga, Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra (and loads of other old time singers), and Melody Gardot. Seriously, though, that's just a tiny, miniscule amount of the music I listen to.

Some of my favourite movies: Zombieland, Atonement, Pride and Prejudice, Love Actually, Bright Star, Tombstone, Interview with a Vampire, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Arsenic and Old Lace...and lots more. I love movies.

Some of my favourite television shows: Doctor Who, Supernatural, Dexter, House, The Walking Dead, Life, Pushing Daises, Luther, Law and Order UK, The Graham Norton Show, The Secret Diary of a Call Girl, Skins, Misfits, 30 Rock, Bones...I watch a lot of t.v. It's probably a tad unhealthy. But, alas, I don't care.


+ I am an admin for :iconliterary-visions:. If you have questions about the group, let me know!
+Other addictions:
my tumblr
my livejournal
my aim address is faithadeline
my msn address is faithadeline@aim.com


Current Residence: Racine
Favourite genre of music: rock/alt, indie/folk, jazz
Personal Quote: "Literature is the highest form of art"
Interests

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconjade-pandora:
Jade-Pandora Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2015
HappyB by KmyGraphic
Emily, wishing you all things
wonderful on this
your very special day!
Reply
:iconworldwar-tori:
WorldWar-Tori Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2013   General Artist
hope you are doing well :love:
Reply
:iconjade-pandora:
Jade-Pandora Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2013
:iconllamajumpplz: Emilyemilyemilyemily...
:iconlawooplz: emilyemilyemilemily....
Reply
:iconlosingmyfaith:
losingmyfaith Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2013  Student Writer
Aww, this made my day. Hahah. :huggle: heart:
Reply
:iconjade-pandora:
Jade-Pandora Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2013
:iconsnugplz: E:bulletpurple:M:bulletred:I:bulletorange:L:bulletgreen:Y!
Reply
:iconhugqueen:
HugQueen Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2013   Writer
So basically, you are all kind of beautiful and I hope you remember that because it' entirely and utterly true. ♥
Reply
:iconlosingmyfaith:
losingmyfaith Featured By Owner Jan 21, 2013  Student Writer
You're so sweet! Thank you so much, darling. <3
Reply
:iconhugqueen:
HugQueen Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2013   Writer
:heart: Aw, absolutely my pleasure, dear one.
Reply
:iconjade-pandora:
Jade-Pandora Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2012
I came here to thank you so very much for faving my "Gentle Cannibal", but did I miss someone's birthday? :O

:iconbirthdaycakeplz: Blow out the candles! :iconwindplz: :excited:

Better late than never!
Reply
:iconlosingmyfaith:
losingmyfaith Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2012  Student Writer
Aw, thank you!! :huggle:
Reply
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