black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

There was a hesitation in your touch only time could see.

Emily Kurc

He grabbed my hand as the flames licked at my feet and the devil and I danced.
EMILY KURC

Dance Devil Flame Hands Myself
In a dream like haze, the moment you left still spins on repeat like a broken record.
EMILY KURC

Break Dreams Moments Repeat
A place where our stories are rewritten, and six degrees of separation no longer troubles us.
EMILY KURC

Ourselves Place Separation Story Trouble Writing
The sky was crying so I wiped away her tears, just like all the times she did the same me.
EMILY KURC

Cry Myself Sky Tears Time
Each night I sit at my windowsill like a wolf howling to the moon, hoping that somewhere you feel me calling to you.
EMILY KURC

Call Feeling Myself Night Wolf Yourself
Even 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 KURC

Empty Feeling Help Myself Place Tired Visit
I hope you think of me during every thunderstorm.
EMILY KURC

Hope Myself Storm Thinking
I 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 KURC

Burn Lonely Myself Sun Thinking Touch Try
I bet my words are still tangled beneath that streetlight fighting for the right combination to stay.
EMILY KURC

Breathe Combination Fight Light Myself Right Stay Word
I 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 KURC

Burn Coffee Forever Myself Pieces Remember Thinking Way
You don’t deserve my poetry. I hate that I give you that satisfaction still.
EMILY KURC

Deserve Myself Poetry Satisfaction
I know I write too many love poems, and perhaps this is me admitting that the love inside me is still there somewhere, stagnant – but its a cruel addiction. I need a intervention.
EMILY KURC

Addiction Cruel Love Myself Need Poem Writing
I learned to make art with my broken heart.
EMILY KURC

Art Broken Heart Learning Myself
Faded secrets and old voices have built towns inside my heart. Thats were we still meet.
EMILY KURC

Build Fade Heart Myself Secret Voice
Spill yourself onto the page with ink and a half healed heart and watch the words blossom.
EMILY KURC

Blossom Healing Heart Page Word Yourself
The sun touched your skin with innocent delicacy as if you were a work of out that was made to be admired deeply.
EMILY KURC

Admire Deep Innocence Skin Sun Touch Yourself

There was a hesitation in your touch only time could see.

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There was a hesitation in your touch only time could see.

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