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

Emily Kurc

You don’t deserve my poetry. I hate that I give you that satisfaction still.
EMILY KURC

Deserve Myself Poetry Satisfaction
When I look at you, I see the moon – I wish you could see that you’re every poets muse.
EMILY KURC

Moon Poet See Worth Writing Yourself
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
There was a time when I loved you too much that it made me feel the darkest shades of blue. It’s been years now, but I’m seeing life in other colors again.
EMILY KURC

Darkness Feeling Life Love Relationship Time Yourself
We all show our true colors eventually – mine is dark and firesome red. I bet I burned you. I don’t expect to see you soon.
EMILY KURC

Burn Color Darkness Expectation Myself True 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
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
A sea of jumbled emotions I had longed to live again, a feeling that no metaphor could match.
EMILY KURC

Emotion Feeling Live Myself Sea
I am still weighed down by unspeakable heaviness- It follows like shadow currents.
EMILY KURC

Current heavy Myself Shadow
Do 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 KURC

Feeling Flame Forget Ghost Haunt Old Philosophy
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
Soft and sweet and wrapped around your fingertips.
EMILY KURC

Fingers Love Relationship Soft Sweet
In a dream like haze, the moment you left still spins on repeat like a broken record.
EMILY KURC

Break Dreams Moments Repeat
When 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 KURC

Beginning Fall Leaves Name Old Play Return Sing Song Yourself
Occasionally, 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 KURC

Body Cry Eclipse Food Herself Human Occasion Sun
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

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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