kristina-wolfe - Hello Poetry

I am walking, looking, searching around, looking for truth I may have already found. I keep asking questions, I keep losing answers, Am I strong for searching or weak for being blown off-course? Should I have gripped more strongly on my long-held beliefs? Is my fear rational or blind? Am I Afraid of Something New or was I just Right All Along? Is there something for feeling in knowing? Can one trust their intuition?

0

Mar 23, 2022

Mar 23, 2022 at 11:56 AM UTC

kristina-wolfe

Psalm 119 Forgotten

I am walking, looking, searching around, looking for truth I may have already found. I keep asking questions, I keep losing answers, Am I strong for searching or weak for being blown off-course? Should I have gripped more strongly on my long-held beliefs? Is my fear rational or blind? Am I Afraid of Something New or was I just Right All Along? Is there something for feeling in knowing? Can one trust their intuition?

10

I went on a date with my ex A day after what was supposed to be our one year anniversary It’s almost like it was a first date, that the timing said the clocks reset and it was all new Everything was perfect, between the tears. The sun was gentle enough to be warming as his touch, as his fingers danced over my back as we sat on a log, talking non-stop like making up for lost time, but feeling that no time had passed at all. The wind was sweet and blew my hair just enough for him to brush it away, and his eyes were more beautiful than ever before, though lacquered in tears of longing. Every silence was punctuated with an “I love you”, sometimes said, and sometimes just felt in the tightening of a hug. Everything fit together just right, and there was no awkwardness between our bodies as they settled into their comfortable familiarity, his shoulder a perfect rest, and my waist a home for his arms, it was so perfect I almost didn’t feel it at all. I can’t even write about our kisses, punctuating pauses like commas, illicit like a last cigarette. Coming out of the conversation, nothing really changed. Everything he said was perfect, and without a shred of begging or manipulation. Everything was said with deep love and care, but no pretension. No gesture was performative, no sentence rehearsed, but everything he said was the most beautiful poetry. I knew that while we had both changed so much, although our paths crossed so sweetly, we still were going in different directions. We walked through an unfamiliar park, somewhere we hadn’t been before, and as we walked back to go, I thought about paths crossing and looping. Maybe we’re on a little loop that will rejoin later, maybe we’re going to just keep getting further apart. Sometimes I see a tree or a branch that makes me think maybe we’re on the same path again — maybe the wait is over — but I’ve never been here before. He’s never been here before. We both know what we want (each other), there’s just still something in the way. I’ll love you forever, and I will treasure today so dearly. We can’t be together and we can’t really be friends, but I’m not sure how to be apart. I’ve never really understood running away, but I sometimes feel like I could give it all up for you. I know you would never ever ask me to, and that’s part of why I love you.

0

Mar 23, 2022

Mar 23, 2022 at 11:54 AM UTC

kristina-wolfe

A Break in the Rain

I went on a date with my ex A day after what was supposed to be our one year anniversary It’s almost like it was a first date, that the timing said the clocks reset and it was all new Everything was perfect, between the tears. The sun was gentle enough to be warming as his touch, as his fingers danced over my back as we sat on a log, talking non-stop like making up for lost time, but feeling that no time had passed at all. The wind was sweet and blew my hair just enough for him to brush it away, and his eyes were more beautiful than ever before, though lacquered in tears of longing. Every silence was punctuated with an “I love you”, sometimes said, and sometimes just felt in the tightening of a hug. Everything fit together just right, and there was no awkwardness between our bodies as they settled into their comfortable familiarity, his shoulder a perfect rest, and my waist a home for his arms, it was so perfect I almost didn’t feel it at all. I can’t even write about our kisses, punctuating pauses like commas, illicit like a last cigarette. Coming out of the conversation, nothing really changed. Everything he said was perfect, and without a shred of begging or manipulation. Everything was said with deep love and care, but no pretension. No gesture was performative, no sentence rehearsed, but everything he said was the most beautiful poetry. I knew that while we had both changed so much, although our paths crossed so sweetly, we still were going in different directions. We walked through an unfamiliar park, somewhere we hadn’t been before, and as we walked back to go, I thought about paths crossing and looping. Maybe we’re on a little loop that will rejoin later, maybe we’re going to just keep getting further apart. Sometimes I see a tree or a branch that makes me think maybe we’re on the same path again — maybe the wait is over — but I’ve never been here before. He’s never been here before. We both know what we want (each other), there’s just still something in the way. I’ll love you forever, and I will treasure today so dearly. We can’t be together and we can’t really be friends, but I’m not sure how to be apart. I’ve never really understood running away, but I sometimes feel like I could give it all up for you. I know you would never ever ask me to, and that’s part of why I love you.

19

It's so very tempting to love, even when a clear end is close at hand. What if I just never reached for that clear end? What if we just walked along forever, with the end forever close at hand? If the distance between here and the end can be split in two and twice and thrice again, isn't the end an infinity away, even if near? what if I never reached out for the end? What if, instead, we just walked hand-in-hand, looking past the end, reaching around it for another rose? What if that glinting little end floated along nearby, but never came between us? Is there such thing as a "dealbreaker"? Does it HAVE to be? What is greater, what has more power over me? My desires, or my other desires? If he's not right, does that very certainly make him wrong? How inconvenient is awareness, and how very fleeting is bliss. I wish I could turn a blind eye, but now I've thought about it too much. It's so foolish to ignore a deadline, to procrastinate on heartbreak, but I so wish the Monday Morning of reality weren't so near.

0

Jul 31, 2020

Jul 31, 2020 at 11:41 PM UTC

kristina-wolfe

glinting little end

It's so very tempting to love, even when a clear end is close at hand. What if I just never reached for that clear end? What if we just walked along forever, with the end forever close at hand? If the distance between here and the end can be split in two and twice and thrice again, isn't the end an infinity away, even if near? what if I never reached out for the end? What if, instead, we just walked hand-in-hand, looking past the end, reaching around it for another rose? What if that glinting little end floated along nearby, but never came between us? Is there such thing as a "dealbreaker"? Does it HAVE to be? What is greater, what has more power over me? My desires, or my other desires? If he's not right, does that very certainly make him wrong? How inconvenient is awareness, and how very fleeting is bliss. I wish I could turn a blind eye, but now I've thought about it too much. It's so foolish to ignore a deadline, to procrastinate on heartbreak, but I so wish the Monday Morning of reality weren't so near.

15

the rain of pain fell down again i feel the same out in the lane sent from a place safe to a place unknown unknown i am to myself who am i where am i i feel unknown and all alone the raindrops have their friends, not alone in their despair i am but a lonely rainbow. alone but glorious

0

Nov 18, 2019

Nov 18, 2019 at 10:10 PM UTC

kristina-wolfe

rain of pain

the rain of pain fell down again i feel the same out in the lane sent from a place safe to a place unknown unknown i am to myself who am i where am i i feel unknown and all alone the raindrops have their friends, not alone in their despair i am but a lonely rainbow. alone but glorious

21

Her eyes were like fire. They weren't red or anything. Not particularly warm, either. They didn't glow or "appear to glow," whatever that means. But they had that same strange blend of familiar and miraculous--- and they were always nice to look at after a long day of doing things.

0

kristina-wolfe

Sep 29, 2019

Sep 29, 2019 at 3:46 PM UTC

bo-burnham

Her Eyes

Her eyes were like fire. They weren't red or anything. Not particularly warm, either. They didn't glow or "appear to glow," whatever that means. But they had that same strange blend of familiar and miraculous--- and they were always nice to look at after a long day of doing things.

9

How, may I ask, did you get so you, you beautiful true-to-you doer? I've met many today but I can honestly say that I've never met anyone you-er.

0

kristina-wolfe

Feb 16, 2019

Feb 16, 2019 at 9:27 PM UTC

bo-burnham

You

How, may I ask, did you get so you, you beautiful true-to-you doer? I've met many today but I can honestly say that I've never met anyone you-er.

4

It’s hard to write happy – It just gets sappy. I can write sad and I can write mad, But my poems about you are just so BAD. I think about you and am filled with joy! Fancy that! All this for a BOY! Together, forever, wherever, ALAS! This feeling, I think, will never pass. I like you, I like you, I like you a lot! Our future, I fear, I am beginning to plot! We’ll get married and say our I do, Pack up our things, and go somewhere new, You’ll be a good father, I’m sure that you will, You’ll hold me tightly, even when I’m ill. We’ll have a child (a boy or a girl), Our lives will spin into quite a whirl. They’ll grow up like you, thoughtful and kind, A flaw in them I shall never find. We’ll have our fights, Hushed ones in the nights, I’ll won’t find the words for why I love you, But I never knew why, I just knew that I knew. But perhaps with space, or maybe just your face, I’ll be reminded of your goodness and grace. But maybe, just maybe, when we’re old and gray, I’ll get it, I'll get it, I’ll have found a way. I’ll say--

0

Feb 4, 2019

Feb 4, 2019 at 9:38 PM UTC

kristina-wolfe

A Little Girl's Poem

It’s hard to write happy – It just gets sappy. I can write sad and I can write mad, But my poems about you are just so BAD. I think about you and am filled with joy! Fancy that! All this for a BOY! Together, forever, wherever, ALAS! This feeling, I think, will never pass. I like you, I like you, I like you a lot! Our future, I fear, I am beginning to plot! We’ll get married and say our I do, Pack up our things, and go somewhere new, You’ll be a good father, I’m sure that you will, You’ll hold me tightly, even when I’m ill. We’ll have a child (a boy or a girl), Our lives will spin into quite a whirl. They’ll grow up like you, thoughtful and kind, A flaw in them I shall never find. We’ll have our fights, Hushed ones in the nights, I’ll won’t find the words for why I love you, But I never knew why, I just knew that I knew. But perhaps with space, or maybe just your face, I’ll be reminded of your goodness and grace. But maybe, just maybe, when we’re old and gray, I’ll get it, I'll get it, I’ll have found a way. I’ll say--

27

The Snow falls beautiful, everywhere. One cannot help but notice the snow, one cannot help but remark on its beauty, yet one cannot help but notice its biting chill. You're remarkable and everywhere, undeniably lovely, undeniably everywhere. Your beauty and your cold are overwhelming. As much as I awe at someone so violently gentle, I can't get too close. Ventures in the snow leave me with a chill and dripping socks. We're incompatible, you and I. You with your blustery flurries and I with my weak immune system. When with you, I 'd shield myself with coats and gloves, I'd want to be near you, but still apart; warming my hands as I protect my heart. I want a love like a cup of tea, warm, comforting. I want a love like a cup of tea, warming me and banishing the memory of the cold of snow. I want a love like a cup of tea, flavorful healthy. I want a love like a cup of tea, No one chooses tea for what it looks like, but rather for what its made of. I want to love someone with the passion of chai, the forgiveness of chamomile, the strength of mint. Soon you'll disappear in the sun, too weak to stay.

0

Feb 1, 2019

Feb 1, 2019 at 4:05 PM UTC

kristina-wolfe

Winter Romance

The Snow falls beautiful, everywhere. One cannot help but notice the snow, one cannot help but remark on its beauty, yet one cannot help but notice its biting chill. You're remarkable and everywhere, undeniably lovely, undeniably everywhere. Your beauty and your cold are overwhelming. As much as I awe at someone so violently gentle, I can't get too close. Ventures in the snow leave me with a chill and dripping socks. We're incompatible, you and I. You with your blustery flurries and I with my weak immune system. When with you, I 'd shield myself with coats and gloves, I'd want to be near you, but still apart; warming my hands as I protect my heart. I want a love like a cup of tea, warm, comforting. I want a love like a cup of tea, warming me and banishing the memory of the cold of snow. I want a love like a cup of tea, flavorful healthy. I want a love like a cup of tea, No one chooses tea for what it looks like, but rather for what its made of. I want to love someone with the passion of chai, the forgiveness of chamomile, the strength of mint. Soon you'll disappear in the sun, too weak to stay.

33

I cough when I lie, it's like the idea of deceiving you is sickening. I don't make eye contact when I exaggerate, I don't want to be able to tell if you see through the story I'm spinning. I want so desperately for you to see me and love me for who I am, not for whatever picture of myself I paint. I feel like I see you, the real you, when you focus on something or someone else and forget to compose yourself for me. I wish I could just say "I see you, and you're beautiful". I crave authenticity, yet keep authoring falsity.

0

Jan 7, 2019

Jan 7, 2019 at 6:19 PM UTC

kristina-wolfe

A Liar's Tell

I cough when I lie, it's like the idea of deceiving you is sickening. I don't make eye contact when I exaggerate, I don't want to be able to tell if you see through the story I'm spinning. I want so desperately for you to see me and love me for who I am, not for whatever picture of myself I paint. I feel like I see you, the real you, when you focus on something or someone else and forget to compose yourself for me. I wish I could just say "I see you, and you're beautiful". I crave authenticity, yet keep authoring falsity.

8