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I hope you think of me during every thunderstorm.

Emily Kurc

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

Ourselves Place Separation Story Trouble Writing
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
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
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
Your name still tastes like poison in my mouth.
EMILY KURC

Myself Name Poison Taste
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
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
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
The future belongs to those who are brave enough to speak up about things that matter.
EMILY KURC

Brave Enough Future Talk Worth
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
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
You don’t deserve my poetry. I hate that I give you that satisfaction still.
EMILY KURC

Deserve Myself Poetry Satisfaction
I have so much love to give even with these daggers still stuck in my heart.
EMILY KURC

Heart Heart Broken Love Myself
I don’t love you anymore. But each time you begin to fade it makes my heart feel numb.
EMILY KURC

Beginning Fade Feeling Heart Love Myself Time
I taught you how to love so you could get it right with someone else.
EMILY KURC

Love Myself Right Teaching Yourself

I hope you think of me during every thunderstorm.

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I hope you think of me during every thunderstorm.

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