i am still known
as the girl who
writes poems
though the truth is
i can barely come up
with a line
that could have
made you
change your mind
-katie
seen from United States

seen from United Arab Emirates
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Lithuania

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from India

seen from United States

seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United Arab Emirates

seen from Malaysia

seen from Denmark
seen from Germany
seen from Denmark
i am still known
as the girl who
writes poems
though the truth is
i can barely come up
with a line
that could have
made you
change your mind
-katie
It’s half quarter before midnight and the moon is half-asleep. Its quiet light tenderly splayed out in the darkest spots. Behind the tallest lamp and two inches above the headboard and on my chest and in between my fingers. The careful moonlight feels like a warm hug. A goodbye that oddly sounds like a hello too. I’ve forgotten how a spine can stretch comfortably when the night eases all the tension away. 28 feels a lot like sprawling out and unbending until pressure points are loosened and you’re completely exposed. I don’t hold onto a lot of people anymore. I still listen to the same old songs and watch the same shows, but I stopped waiting on things and people to catch up to me. I say “I love you” once but show it twice and more. I’m learning to just sit with the painful memories instead of recycling them into lessons. Same with people too. My heart is still soft, but I’m a far cry from 16 years old. My hands are still always searching for warm places to touch, but I’m remembering cold places are touch-starved too. I often miss summer when it’s cold and damp. And miss the chilly air when I’m baked under the Michigan heat. I think about how I used to miss parts of myself in the same way. Perpetually unsatisfied and mystified of what could be.
I spent the last year stretching out all my limbs and unfolding skin that remained hidden for so long. Light-starved and unseen. I want to remember not just the grandest experiences but also the quietest moments. I want to be felt and seen. My 20s have been a lot of drowning out all the noise to hear myself. My voice spreading farther and louder like the glistening sun rays of July. All my light reaching into places and people I’ve met and yet to meet. I want to grow warm, grow full. I want to tuck light and love in all the darkest spots. Inside a dresser and underneath the bed and on my nape and in all my bones.
The memories of those moments with you, those precious times laughing, full of deep conversations, life stories, heartfelt confessions, and soul sharing are what help me bear these moments without you.
e.v.e.
time is moving too fast
I want to slow it down
put chord shapes together
I hate being bound
by the clock on the wall
loving you is so far
even when you’re laying on my couch
the time spent away just keeps us apart
I envy your pockets for holding your hands
and I envy the sun for watching you dance
oh what I would give
to be a bird peering through your windowpane
In the art of assumption is training your judgment to become worse
.
i guess it's still in my blood-
the ability to bottle
all my emotions
like they won't
suffocate me
sometimes i wish i can
open up to people
but then,
maybe you can't really teach
an old dog a new trick
afterall
-katie