http://slow.writerscafe.org/emmamtaylor73 The original writings of author Emma Marie Taylor en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776046137 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 S i l e n c e. I can't stand the quiet. It corrupts from within It takes your whole being, screams through your skin Wraps its intentions in lonely goodbyes Suffocates words, to struggle, to die Melts away letters, smudging the lines Engulfing your mind with the emptiest sighs Fighting the melo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1835046/ Sometimes the scariest thing in this world is your own mind http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1791331/ They lacked all the things that the other one had But loved each other for the good and the bad Their love was two seasons that were different, it appeared Two of the four that we live in a year He was a sunshine that burned hot and bright and she was a d.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1405325/ I'm considering writing a new book and the main character writes many letters to a girl who isnt like anyone, anyone has ever seen. Please tell me if you like this and if I should continue on? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1400742/ Her mind is the motive and her thoughts are the knife For her heart is a whirlwindAnd the silence, her lifeThe sounds just keep going...                                            .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1398221/ I want to speak but my voice is dead It comes in bursts, heavy as lead I miss my chances, I miss my light Running not catching I scream but a scratch The.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1353667/ It's Not Definite YetThose secret smilesTake me for milesSideways glancesWe both miss the chances It's not definite yet It's not positive yetBut those green speckled eyesThat smile where all honesty liesI smile, you blush, I laugh, you gushWe never speak    BecauseYou're the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1223685/ This poem I wrote about 7 months ago when I could tell my long term boyfriend was about to break up with me, I wrote it while crying, it is a very powerful poem to me. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1217974/ I wasn't always an outcast. Before I was diagnosed with ADHD, I was actually one of the most popular girls in Mrs. Raywood's second grade class. Sure, elementary popular and high school popular aren't exactly the same...but it was all I had. In my younger days, I had it all. The big house, the rich .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1129837/ "Sage this is the fifth time in two weeks you have missed a test. What's going on?" My mother asks, while placing a cool washcloth on my claimy forehead. "Tests stress me out. I didn't mean to faint," I answer.My mom sighs, running a hand through her long blond hair. Her blue eyes are tired and wate.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1128694/ I have never written a poem like this...so lemme know what you think! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1116396/ I raced home with a rock in my stomach, feeling warning bells ringing in my ears. Where is Jonah? The sidewalks of Jonah's neighborhood ran past me in colorful blurs as I stomped faster to his house. Maybe he is just sick, the Voice sings in my head. Maybe it's right...but I can't afford to tak.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1116390/ I hate tests. I mean...I think it is pretty safe to say that almost ever American between the ages of 4 and 20 hate tests. But when I say I hate tests...I really mean it. Before a test I get, what I call, the Four Levels of Hell.  Level One: Immediate self-doubtLevel Two: Sweaty palms.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1107140/                  Who are You?     Maybe I'm just scaredMaybe I'm just paranoidMaybe its not thereBut the fear I feel The heart I heal Doesn't seem to be there You still smile when I laugh You still feel like my perf.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1102954/         Broken BookIn the corner of myselfSits a story on our shelfA story of our love and lustThe words of love, when we mustRhythms of kisses, touches, loveSpoken in  different, foreign tongueWhispers of a dying lungOur love was solid, silver steel Our love was magicB.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1101087/ I stand in front of the school, paralyzed as the other studentsflood the school doors in a hurry. Move, I think, but my feetdisobey, and dig themselves deeper into the ground. People bump me, and give meannoyed looks, occasional snippy remarks.  A flash of curly blo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1100265/ It turned out they were right. Henry did become my best friend. I guess being socially outcasted together can do that to people. Henry was the only one there for me when I felt so alone. "Do...do you....need....a...f-friend?" He had asked my first day, after I had tucked myself in the corner of the .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1094261/ The walk home was painful. Torturing. My tears were interrupted by the sound of my phone buzzing in my pocket. "Hello?" "Clara? Its Daniel." I gulp, and my mouth tries to form words...but my thoughts are swimming to quickly to speak. Drop the phone. Drop it now. Didn't you hear what Jonah said? Igno.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1092501/ Touching MeI wake up screamingTears steam down my faceI've been dreamingOf a horrible placeMy skin burns at the chill of airGoosebumps freckle me, coldened scareMy body feels nakedBut clothes stick to my skin I shutter and sobAt the thought of such sinI feel raw and open Body taken, shattered, broke.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1092441/ You might be wondering why I'm so...well, you know.I mean, if I were you, a reader, and reading this, and hearing a girl talk about hearing voices in her head, then I'd probably be a little confused too. Let me straighten out the fuzz. Or...try to. I can't say I'm very good at explaining things. *&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1092012/ I stand in front of the door, breathing heavily. I'm reminded of a few days ago, where I knocked on Daniel's door. A nervous gulp struggles to travel down my throat. I knock. The distant footfall of feet comes from inside the house, and the door opens. A small, old woman smiles at me. "Hello, may I .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1091355/ "How was school?" My mother asks, shoveling a fork full of spaghetti into her mouth. Classy. I stare down at my plate, twirling the slimy, sick noodles with the tines of my fork. As crappy as any day. "Good." I answer, not looking up. My mother smiles, "Good!" I shake my head and sigh, taking a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1091319/ The day i was diagnosed with a mental disorder was just the beginning. Maybe their right. I'm crazy. I'm dumb. I'm nuts. So, this is what it's like. Being stupid. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1091315/ This is an idea I had for a new book I'm writing, called 'Being Stupid.' http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1091272/ GlassRhythmic words of a broken face Empty syllables of a hopeless chaseBroken, tattered, jagged, shattered Sharp and bleeding Reality sleeping Love is blurring Revenge reoccurring EmptyBlue CrackingTrueWords and letters never passBrokenShatteredJagged Glass http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1090741/ I don't remember much from my childhood. Well, let me rephrase that. I don't remember much before the needles and surgeries and neglect and the crying. Mostly blurred realities I can't decipher between what actually happened, or what I simply created in my own mind. But one thing I do remember, was .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1090696/ Baby girl, with the combat bootsBaby girl, covered in soot Baby girl, swinging from branchesBaby girl, hanging from treesWearing a pink princess dress Stomping in mud in your yellow bootsMaking a splash, making a messBaby girl, with the combat bootsBaby girl, covered in sootBaby girl, swinging from .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1088830/ The next morning Mr. Finnly called me to the Switched House. Immediatly, I knew my mother called him. "Clara. I'm very disappointed in you," Mr. Finnly says, sitting down in his leather chair. I scowl at him, "She got what she deserved." Mr. Finnly shakes his head, "You should never hit your own mot.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1088701/                                                   .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1088049/ Up in the sky, the young boy stared Sitting with family, the stars they sharedup in the black blanket night Shone a star, blinking bright And the boy pointed, "Look, a star, a star!" But his father said, staring far,"No one star could shine that bright." The boy just shook his head with glee, "But l.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1086964/ As soon as I stepped into the taxi, the smug, dizzy smile immediately left my face. What. The. Hell. Did. I. Just. Do. Instead of the giddy, excited feeling I expected to feel after my kiss with Daniel, it was squashed by the sick, queasy, guilty feeling groaning inside my belly. I never should have.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1085786/ Hey guys! SO SORRY i havent been online recently to post new chapters, my charger broke for my computer, but im glad to have it fixed and ready to write! Hope you like! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1084858/ Caught in the middle, quiet, unknownDrifting by lifeless, forgotten, aloneRemembered watching, waiting, standing  by Sneaking away from the smiles, still shy Holding back thoughts, secrets and liesDeaf to the sound, the music, the criesWrithing their smiles, unknown to my painAs if my existence.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1062112/ I wrote this for my narrative story in my language class. The poem written in it is the poem I wrote and posted on here, Lips Of Blood Poison, tell me what you think! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1060176/ "Jonah? Daniel?" My voice is barely a whisper, and cracked with hurt and betrayal. I don't even recognize it. "How..." "Clara, I can explain-" Daniel began, but Jonah put a hand to his chest. "My family was his foster family a few years ago." Jonah's eyes go dark, and he bears a look I never have se.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1060149/ I stare out the window outside the cafeteria. Teens chatter around me but I block them out, concentrating on the world outside these walls. "Clara? Can I talk to you?" I whip my head around to see Jonah, awkwardly standing there with his tray in his trembling hands. I pat the seat next to me an.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1055462/ Night time stars fall against the treeShadowing the horror of the monster, me Closing my eyes I cut skin neatly Soaking up blood so, so discreetly He needed to die, the man of that hour His words hurt, he was so sour I dragged him here, with promise of kiss But instead he got my deadly lipsInjecting.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1054371/ My mother hasn't spoken to me all weekend, and for that, I am grateful. But by Monday morning, I'm wondering what game she is playing now. "Why are you so damn quiet, all of the sudden?" I growl, throwing my textbooks in my shredded backpack. She doesn't look at me, just continues to chop the carrot.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1054362/ "I won't tell her." He says, staring right into my eyes. I smile at him, "Thank you." He returns the smile, and goes back to his blocks, stacking them up one by one. "What are little brothers for?" I flinch, taken aback. He used the b word. I try to hide my discomfort, "For an eight-year-old you sur.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1053926/ Eight years ago, six continents banded together to start a war on North America. It was known as the HexaWar. Five-hundred soldiers of each continent rose up from the ashes and together, destroyed what was once known as the world's strongest country. Unprepared, the American army was easily taken ov.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1052930/ I know where you were last night. No matter the horror of the words I find an eerie numbness to them. At least I'm away from my mother. I stare down at the note trembling in my hands, and rub my thumb across the ink. My mind wanders...who would write this? Why? I never told anyone...they...who could.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1052829/ I never quite understood what I was. I wasn't human. I wasn't an android. I wasn't an animal. I was nothing.  They never told me what I was, and I never asked. It was a don't ask, don't tell policy, and even if I was young, I knew not to break that rule.       &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1051456/ "Are you sure you want to do this, Mrs. Reese?" The man asked, his hands neatly folded at the desk. Samantha Reese shook her head, "Its Ms. Reese now, and yes, I am sure." She tried her best not to look at the man, in fear she would burst into tears. Impossible, she thought. I've shed all the tears .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1051277/ Sorry I haven't posted in awhile, I've been really busy. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1048585/ “I have a project I’d like you to work on,” Bickford toldNadette, tapping his wrinkled fingers against his cane. She furrowed her brow,“Project? For what?” Bickford was always telling her new books and spell booksshe could read about, even if Nadette didn&rsqu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1045862/ My eyes stare at the doors of the Switched House across the street. My throat tightens. I'm not ready. Suddenly self-conscious, I glance over at Jonah, who is staring sadly at me. "C-can...can you um...go with me?" I ask sheepishly. I hate asking him to do this, but I just can't go in there alone. J.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1044715/ Jonah's rusty blue truck pulls to a stop at a curb. "Thanks so much, Jonah," I say with a smile. I meant it. I really needed to get my mind off my mother. Jonah scrunches his nose and looks at me. Again I'm mesmerized by the stunning blue of his eyes. "I'm not sure about this, Clara. This is a dange.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1044314/ I look up at the clock on the faded blue wall. My tired eyes follow the hands as they slowly circle the clock. I know I should be concentrating on my school work, but my mind continues to wander to my mother. Why did she even come back? Why does she think I’ll forgive her? Suddenly.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1043883/ My frozen fingers clumsily fold open the crinkled note with the address code hidden on it. I look up and squint past the flickering street light above me. I need to find Kerewood Road. The streets are abandoned and nothing stands out in the emptiness of this forgotten town. The streetlight beside me.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1043529/ Just a little screenplay I wrote for myself. This has no story tied with it I just felt like adding some broken heart romance to my mix of writing:) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/emmamtaylor73/1043517/