<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rdf:RDF xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/" xmlns:rdf="http://www.w3.org/1999/02/22-rdf-syntax-ns#"><channel rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/BlogRss.aspx/EmilyDickinson"><title>If I could write like EMILY DICKINSON, I'd be dead - Blogit</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/</link><description /><sy:updatePeriod>hourly</sy:updatePeriod><sy:updateFrequency>1</sy:updateFrequency><sy:updateBase>2000-01-01T12:00+00:00</sy:updateBase><items><rdf:Seq><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/670413" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/669746" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/668681" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/667844" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/660603" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/655548" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/654035" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/653501" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/652499" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/652174" /></rdf:Seq></items></channel><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/670413"><title>Crazy heart</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/670413</link><description>torn apart tattered pieces a million shards stained with lies and blemished alibis. Only the cold ones go unpunished... only the heartless thrive... and crazy heart... prays to die.</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/669746"><title>Show and Tell</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/669746</link><description>“Cleopatra’s Crown,” she told them, her find from a nearby ditch, where when it rains, the Nile comes through, and washes up trinkets from the past, part of her story today. “Hold it gently, “she said, “It’s a priceless gem. You can even tell where rubies once lay… before they got washed away.”...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/668681"><title>On a Good Day</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/668681</link><description>She remembers your name that day in the rain holding hands becoming friends. She welcomes your touch misses you so much knows she’s lost to all she’s forgot. She may ask about the babies laughs at the crazies then stares ahead can’t find any friends. On a good day, she remembers. On a bad day,...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/667844"><title>Born Broken</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/667844</link><description>These games I'm playin are weighin on my mind, don't know if I'll ever find enough time to reconcile my crimes. Born broken to a momma broken too long line of weary souls with no dreams and ratty ol’ shoes. Hollow to the core empty in the eye born broken a legacy I can’t deny.</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/660603"><title /><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/660603</link><description>I'll take my broken heart and move where icebergs grow, where I'll listen to the whispered silence of life's ebb and flow. Or I could take my broken heart and move where volcanos blow, where I'll touch the burning flesh of a mountain destined to go home.</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/655548"><title>Just One More Day</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/655548</link><description>I admit, most days I’d welcome my last breath climb my stairway to Heaven say goodbye to this life and accept death but I know, despite his telling me I''m nothing, there are two little boys who would disagree, and no matter his disregard for me, I am, to them, something of a specialty. So, when...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/654035"><title>Lunch with Co-Workers</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/654035</link><description>(Part 1) “I’m so stressed right now; it’s a busy time for me, you see…” My mind wandered during the catastrophic meltdown of my coworkers. There were so many things I wanted to say, but if my misfortune has taught me anything, it is this: Those who haven’t been there won’t get it, so save your...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/653501"><title>Chasing Ghosts</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/653501</link><description>She’s chasing a ghost, or something that just isn’t there anymore, a dream, a wanna be, but the one she seeks lives only in her head and treads across her heart on moonless nights, when the dusk beckons her to sleep and stardust haunts the lullaby she hears, as angels whisper the sad melody of...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/652499"><title>5 Ws + 1 H</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/652499</link><description>Who am I sober? What will become of me without him? When will I be free? Where will I find peace? Why do I see clearer through bloodshot eyes? How will I survive?</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/652174"><title>Who would I be if I had the courage to be me?</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/EmilyDickinson/652174</link><description>I’d speak my thoughts as they came give no mind to those who’d place blame, probably chuckle at their blushing but never question my mind’s rushing. I’d walk with head held high, confident I’m worthy of other people’s time, even when they cast me aside, defame my character, judge my climb. I’d...</description></item></rdf:RDF>