black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

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

Emily Kurc

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
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
There were still embers scattered around me from the bridges I have burned. I wonder if they can feel it too. The space between us lingering like a scarlet letter, I’m learning how to love again.
EMILY KURC

Bridge Learning Love Myself Scatter Wonder
I thought time would heal my broken heart, but its been forever since I fell in love and I’m scared that you took pieces of me that can’t be replaced.
EMILY KURC

Broken Heart Healing Myself Pieces Replacement Scare Thinking Time
Faded secrets and old voices have built towns inside my heart. Thats were we still meet.
EMILY KURC

Build Fade Heart Myself Secret Voice
There was a hesitation in your touch only time could see.
EMILY KURC

Hesitation See Time Touch Yourself
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
He grabbed my hand as the flames licked at my feet and the devil and I danced.
EMILY KURC

Dance Devil Flame Hands Myself
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 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
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
I laugh and I cry and I reason on until the late night, but I never feel the urge to call you. The person that I once knew is forever frozen in time.
EMILY KURC

Cry Laughter Myself Night Reason Time
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
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
I no longer wear my heart on my sleeve. Instead, I keep this love folded up, like a tiny paper plane, until my heart is ready to soar again.
EMILY KURC

Heart Love Myself Plane
A place where our stories are rewritten, and six degrees of separation no longer troubles us.
EMILY KURC

Ourselves Place Separation Story Trouble Writing

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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