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 BodyCryEclipseFoodHumanOccasionSun
When I look at you, I see the moon – I wish you could see that you’re every poets muse. EMILY KURC MoonPoetSeeWorthWriting
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 FeelingFlameForgetGhostHauntOldPhilosophy
I don’t love you anymore. But each time you begin to fade it makes my heart feel numb. EMILY KURC BeginningFadeFeelingHeartLoveTimeTime Love
I bet my words are still tangled beneath that streetlight fighting for the right combination to stay. EMILY KURC BreatheCombinationFightLightRightStayWord
I miss the sweat of september and the stickiness of the sheets. EMILY KURC BedLoveMissingRomanceTogetherness
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 FeelingNightWolf
