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About Literature / Student EmilyFemale/United States Group :iconoperation-love: Operation-Love
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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
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 7 4
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 4 5
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
to a beautiful death
of their own doing.
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 2 5
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 6 5
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 7 10
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,
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 5 2
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 3 2
Sometimes I look cheesy by losingmyfaith Sometimes I look cheesy :iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 0 2
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 6 2
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.
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.
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 6 0
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 4 4
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 6 10
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 4 2
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
for me to find you
        in a place you'd always been--
inside of me.
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 8 4
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
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 5 3
I'm Gonna Love You
was a time
I knew you like a lover
kept you hidden
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
:iconlosingmyfaith:losingmyfaith 9 0

Random Favourites

to the boy that generics favored.
i get the feeling that if i were to pick apart your seams
that i'd find things that my preciouslogicalscience
couldn't possibly begin to explain.
i think that your eyes are sewn with golden threads
the same ones that line the walls of your heart
that your ribcage is pure white and strong
and that your heart echos through it making
your own kind of symphony
and my kind of siren song.
i noticed that your lips have little tracks and
grooves lining the raspberry
and i think i'd much prefer to study your lip lines
than the ones that are etched into your palms.
the future is not ours to know,
but i can be sure that after a while of revising your lips
i will cave and have to know all the ins and outs
behind the chemical explosion that follows the
meeting of your raspberry with my strawberry.
i sometimes catch myself drifting
and considering what would happen if one of us
were to slip across to the other side
would i still be able to touch you
would something
:iconohsparrowsong:ohsparrowsong 5 6
unlearn the constellations
I may carry my voice
on white-crested wingtips
but I refuse to take the names of birds.
My throat is not a desert
with smoldered star limbs
in place of sand, not a stone
for you to overturn and mark
with gentle cloud prints
or leave in the mud
to be perforated by bright moss.
My song is not made
to be thundered like a body
on the wind, to be bellowed
by the jagged mouths
of some distant, forgotten jungle.
It is made to slide along the edges
of twenty burning suns and rise
like a halo of newfound breath
from the crevice which splits
earth and sea. To break open
like the young, wet-winged dove
born of a glorious mud
which cracks mountains with its beak.
My song is this:
your mouth pressed against my heart
and my heart unfurling like a fist,
like a tree which tries to speak
but finds itself without a tongue. It is
a sky for you to stand in. A cold, unknown
world which opens its mouth in peals of
thunder and cries teach me,
teach me how to sing

as if I were some heavy-handed god
:iconcynenoir:CyneNoir 303 124
Tribal Gods Passing on Wind
In the forest I built the old man
like a child; a brown and weary god
which swallows the shadows cast by water
and breathes them out across the curling leaves.
I carved his eyes
from horn and ivory. They gleamed warily
as twin stones dark with slumber, the ice
winding its way through their cracks
only by memory. Their pale moss
fell off in patches.
And his skull, shaken by the birthing
of cold worlds in its sockets,
was thrust into the willow trees
to catch vestiges of falling
but found only blackbirds
and fistfuls of sleep. I grabbed rivers
by their spines and peeled them gently
from the dirt, wrestled their scarred water
with my naked hands, folded them
like the skeletons of hollow stars. I
thrust their roots into the old man's back
as if the waves would churn into wings
that gave way to bodies of bitter light
with the clouds.
A coming storm frothed against the horizon
like the manes of fire-horses. The thunder broke
as it swept through his heart, leaving footprints
deeper tha
:iconcynenoir:CyneNoir 35 42
When God Sleeps.
I. So it comes to this: pangea tearing itself raw
from our throats to pour into squares of newly open sky
where the stars grew aches and darkened lakewater
once bloomed into bruised winters. Somewhere
beyond the thick of snow, prayers are strung
on moon-rattled winds
and birds' teeth tear apart the poetry
of our hands. They will raise something beautiful
from these ruined words.
Continents shift slowly. They are
dirt-bound titans, these beasts;
rootless giants that mold themselves
to fit the vision we hold inside our heads. Oceans sigh
and their tides crawl ever upward.
II. Our shadows become umbilical
in certain light. Unknown children cast
dark shapes of water
to nourish the gardens springing forth
from the dirt's wrist like a eulogy for lost sky.
Morning doves sing because they see what we cannot:
the years between us laid out like miles and our feet
that never mark the reddened earth and
the passion-trees birthing flowers of such cold, untamed souls.
We are walking in the wombs of
:iconcynenoir:CyneNoir 268 109
You offer me your ghost shirt
for warmth, as I stand
in permanent free fall
before the two dippers.
I have no tears with which to weep,
they won't last beyond
the first touch of
thin air in this high place
where trees never grew
or felt the tension of gut sinew
when I lost my eyes
staring into the sun, and
how its dried breath of
ancient rain and elk horn
has left the moon an orphan.
:iconjade-pandora:Jade-Pandora 57 38
sea smoke
there is an ellipse before the
the cinematic salt rolling
off your eyelashes
you can't say you're sorry now, can you?
revenge isn't as sweet
as it's always been.
self-sufficiency will only get you so far
burning bridges instead of building them
and god, i wonder why i can't sleep
when my hands still smell like (our) sex
and i can find fragments of you in every broken thing
i try to sleep but i can't stop waking up
my body has betrayed me
plaguing me with dreams of memories
harsh, but long forgotten
and i sit up and count the seconds and i think think think
wondering when i went wrong
or if i did.
i like to think that someone is awake thinking, too
but no one answers when i call.
people are jealous of the symphonies i listen
to when you pull me against your chest
but the secret is
the only thing you get out of listening to
someone else's organic metronome
is forgetting about your own.
i only have one cigarette left and it's like i'm scared to smoke it
your leaving h
:iconcrushasphyxia:crushasphyxia 12 22
the view from our back porch
I watched the wind,
let it paint silence all over my skin.
Looked to the sky;
tried to make sense
of how birds stay in flight.
It seems
without care
they're suspended in the air,
free to roam where they may dare.
I took a tally
of every back road and every dark alley
I skipped,
and it seems
I'm suspended in my chair.
Free to fight the chains I wear,
never getting anywhere.
I watched the wind;
leaves that had settled took wing once again.
I only sighed.
It's hard to inhale
when your body is tied.
It seems
without care
I'm suspended in the air
from a limb I thought was fair.
I am not worth being spared.
:icongliitchlord:gliitchlord 2 11
Against your chest
at ten o'clock in the morning
I wonder why your heart
sounds like an engine
to shift
instead of the lackadaisical
purr of a fat cat
on the front step.
But your father had a heart attack
at thirty-five, his father before him
at forty
and your great grandfather
sneezed on his fiftieth
birthday and never
woke up.
So you're expecting to die,
expecting a January
shiver to lie you down,
worried that next Tuesday
night will uncover
worms eating a lattice work
into your ventricles.
You want to be a doctor,
spend weeks
studying anatomy,
the page always open
at the chest,
those grand cross-sections
that look like chopped liver
on a plate.
You can't stand music
with a throbbing beat,
won't take your pulse
without humming nervous
for hours,
can't stand the thought
that we need a heart
to survive.
On your chest I feel the backfires
of one thousand anxieties,
the high pitched engine whine
between first and third
and pray you stay struggling
to keep the beat
in time.
:iconejectionletter:ejectionletter 18 17
Soir de Fete by iNeedChemicalX Soir de Fete :iconineedchemicalx:iNeedChemicalX 994 56



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' 

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. 


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. 



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

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


Add a Comment:
Jade-Pandora Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2015
HappyB by KmyGraphic
Emily, wishing you all things
wonderful on this
your very special day!
WorldWar-Tori Featured By Owner Nov 11, 2013   General Artist
hope you are doing well :love:
Jade-Pandora Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2013
:iconllamajumpplz: Emilyemilyemilyemily...
:iconlawooplz: emilyemilyemilemily....
losingmyfaith Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2013  Student Writer
Aww, this made my day. Hahah. :huggle: heart:
Jade-Pandora Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2013
:iconsnugplz: E:bulletpurple:M:bulletred:I:bulletorange:L:bulletgreen:Y!
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. ♥
losingmyfaith Featured By Owner Jan 21, 2013  Student Writer
You're so sweet! Thank you so much, darling. <3
HugQueen Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2013   Writer
:heart: Aw, absolutely my pleasure, dear one.
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!
losingmyfaith Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2012  Student Writer
Aw, thank you!! :huggle:
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