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 Jul 2013 CZ
Kayla Hollatz
i.

You say 
I look like a twig

as if I should be ashamed

to be compared to a strong tree.



ii.

You hold my gelatin arm,

letting it hang, 
laughing
that I am all skin and bones,

but aren't you, too?



iii.

You think I should come
with a caution label
explaining how to properly hold something

as breakable and fragile as glass. 



iv.

You slink your arm around my waist,
dancing your fingertips over my protruding hip bones,

confessing it feels like it doesn't belong.

Why isn't it beautiful
a part of my vessel isn't
 hidden?



v.

You are aghast when my ribcage

slightly shows, stretching my masked skin.

Why are you horrified
to see the very structure

protecting the ***** I love you with?



vi.

Twice the portions,
 twice
the helping.
 Will I always have to prove
I am anything, but 
empty?



vii.

Last time I checked,

you were a skeleton, too.
 Jun 2013 CZ
Kayla Hollatz
Eyes like fireflies
dancing in the black of night;
My lantern of light.
 Jun 2013 CZ
Kayla Hollatz
Anatomy.
 Jun 2013 CZ
Kayla Hollatz
Scientists divide my body
into systems,
cardiovascular,
circulatory,
respiratory,
but when you are in my presence,
it all becomes nervous.
 May 2013 CZ
Kayla Hollatz
i.
You realize life's real currency
isn't money, which can be spent on me,
but time, which can be spent with me.

ii.
The others saw you as a beggar,
but it is me who has begged for you to stay.

iii.
Tie a ribbon around my finger,
it all means just the same.
 May 2013 CZ
Kayla Hollatz
a
flower
does
not
bloom
when
it's
told;

it
blooms
when
it's
read­y.
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