black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

Soft and sweet and wrapped around your fingertips.

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

Dance Devil Flame Hands Myself
I am still weighed down by unspeakable heaviness- It follows like shadow currents.
EMILY KURC

Current heavy Myself Shadow
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
I learned to make art with my broken heart.
EMILY KURC

Art Broken Heart Learning Myself
Leave me like you mean it. My heart can’t keep waiting for you.
EMILY KURC

Break Up Heart Leave Yourself
My mother always told me that love is like a plant, but she never prepared me for the realization that too much love towards the wrong person can drown your heart until it rots.
EMILY KURC

Heart Love Mom Myself Preparation Realization
I hope you think of me during every thunderstorm.
EMILY KURC

Hope Myself Storm Thinking
I taught you how to love so you could get it right with someone else.
EMILY KURC

Love Myself Right Teaching Yourself
In a dream like haze, the moment you left still spins on repeat like a broken record.
EMILY KURC

Break Dreams Moments Repeat
I miss the sweat of september and the stickiness of the sheets.
EMILY KURC

Bed Love Missing Myself Romance Togetherness
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
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 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
Each 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 KURC

Hurt Leaving Love Myself Poetry Time

Soft and sweet and wrapped around your fingertips.

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Soft and sweet and wrapped around your fingertips.

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