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Guest Post #2: Emilee Rogers

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I’ve known Emilee for almost two years now. I met her at an after school program I worked for my first year in Birmingham. I always knew I liked her. She just radiates cool, but in that non-threatening, “I could be friends with her” way. We share a passion for telling kids about Jesus, and as we recently discovered, a passion for writing. Her vulnerability when she writes in truly heartbreaking, but in the best kind of way. When she writes, I feel what she feels. I see the picture she is painting with her words as if I had experienced it myself. And when I read this poem of hers, I knew I had to post it on my blog. While reading it, there were numerous times when I said, “YES! that’s exactly how I felt. that’s exactly what I would do.”And I’m challenged to be just as vulnerable in my writings as she is in hers.

Thanks for being my friend, Em, and for reminding me of the beauty found in opening our hearts and minds to others.

The Big, Tan Couch 

In a small room there’s a big, tan couch
threaded together by people’s secrets
cleaned week after week with their tears.
Painted on the walls are my thoughts.
Why do I think this way?
Why did they hurt me?
Why do I care?
All the why’s and why not’s
woven together week after week
woven in one big, tan couch.
In the pillows are my sobbed confessions.
How many times I’ve thought of ending it all myself.
How many barriers I know I have up.
How many people I wish would just stay.
How much I want it to all just go away.
I always grasp the blanket drape it over my legs and arms.
I subconsciously think it hides me hides me from vulnerability.
I want the thoughts to leave.
I want the questions to stop.
I want the curiosity to end
for peace and quiet to replace it.
I avoid eye contact
at least when I’m crying
I never thought I could cry this much.
My voice croaks and she can’t understand me.
I fight the urge to look at the clock.
I don’t want her to know that I just really want to leave
that sharing this is unbearable and uncomfortable.
I spill my heart week after week, minute by minute.
tick tick tock tock tock tick…still broken.
I seep into that big, tan couch. and blow into the tissues each week.
the couch is where my secrets lay and if it’s up to me,
its where they’ll stay.

Emilee Rogers is a wearer of beanies in the summer, a paper airplane maker, and a recent graduate of Samford University. For more of her writings, visit her blog where she posts way more frequently than I do.

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