black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

I miss the sweat of september and the stickiness of the sheets.

Emily Kurc

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
I miss the sweat of september and the stickiness of the sheets.
EMILY KURC

Bed Love Missing Myself Romance Togetherness
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
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
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
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
Men like you were never meant for storms like us.
EMILY KURC

Instagram Captions Man Storm Yourself
I learned to make art with my broken heart.
EMILY KURC

Art Broken Heart Learning Myself
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
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 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
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 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
In a dream like haze, the moment you left still spins on repeat like a broken record.
EMILY KURC

Break Dreams Moments Repeat
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
There was a hesitation in your touch only time could see.
EMILY KURC

Hesitation See Time Touch Yourself

I miss the sweat of september and the stickiness of the sheets.

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I miss the sweat of september and the stickiness of the sheets.

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Popular Authors

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