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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

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

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

Instagram Captions Man Storm 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
Be here with me tonight, and lets sing the saddest moon song there ever was.
EMILY KURC

Moon Night Sad Sing Togetherness
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
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
The future belongs to those who are brave enough to speak up about things that matter.
EMILY KURC

Brave Enough Future Talk Worth
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
I have so much love to give even with these daggers still stuck in my heart.
EMILY KURC

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

Deserve Myself Poetry Satisfaction
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
Your name still tastes like poison in my mouth.
EMILY KURC

Myself Name Poison Taste
I hope you think of me during every thunderstorm.
EMILY KURC

Hope Myself Storm Thinking
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 learned to make art with my broken heart.
EMILY KURC

Art Broken Heart Learning Myself
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
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 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

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.

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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.

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Popular Authors

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