I have so much love to give even with these daggers still stuck in my heart.
EMILY KURCI have so much love to give even with these daggers still stuck in my heart.
EMILY KURCHe grabbed my hand as the flames licked at my feet and the devil and I danced.
EMILY KURCI miss the sweat of september and the stickiness of the sheets.
EMILY KURCEach time I fall back in love with myself, I leave my pen and paper behind. It isn’t personal, or maybe it is. I just a always thought that poetry was for the hurting.
EMILY KURCThe sky was crying so I wiped away her tears, just like all the times she did the same me.
EMILY KURCOccasionally, the sun is eclipsed by the body of a weeping human. Her tears make the soil harden and crust like the top of a burnt load of bread.
EMILY KURCDo ghosts get tired of haunting? Of chasing old flames in darkness, of walking through dreams casting shadows against walls, against hearts, do they feel themselves forgotten?
EMILY KURCI taught you how to love so you could get it right with someone else.
EMILY KURCYou don’t deserve my poetry. I hate that I give you that satisfaction still.
EMILY KURCMen like you were never meant for storms like us.
EMILY KURCI think I’ll always remember your birthday and the way you took your coffee because they’ll forever be pieces of you I cannot burn.
EMILY KURCWhen the leaves begin to fall, I find myself returning to old playlists in hopes that I can feel you holding my hand, or kissing me goodnight, or hear you singing my name into songs and blueing when it makes no sense.
EMILY KURCSoft and sweet and wrapped around your fingertips.
EMILY KURCI like to think of myself as the sun, but it gets really lonely all the way out here especially when everything I try to touch burns.
EMILY KURCEven the places we used to visit in this empty town feel lyrical. My heart can’t help but sing along even now, but I’m tired.
EMILY KURCThe future belongs to those who are brave enough to speak up about things that matter.
EMILY KURC