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Emma Katka Mar 2021
water rings collecting
from the condensation of my beers on your end table
no air conditioning, summer sweating
water rings reflecting
in the glow from rope lights draped across your ceiling
I remembered every single moment from that night for nine years
and it's those small moments
you tell yourself you'll never forget
so you study every shadow
every sight, every dusty beam of light
but time passes and you still end up forgetting
when you never thought you could
you just keep getting buried
but I'll take whatever I can get
I'm glad I had my camera strapped around my neck
it's how I trapped those memories for only me
back then it was for love
now it's for tragedy
good intentions are fleeting
because in mere moments passing
they're already transforming
you're the cat making biscuits out of my brain matter
years ******* later
Emma Katka Mar 2021
I’m not always in a state of tragedy, my art helps take it out of me. Perhaps it’s bittersweet to not always resemble what you create on the surface. I think it just means you have to dig a little deeper. Vulnerability is laboring.
Emma Katka Feb 2021
first real love ****
the memories are always distorted
the longer time moves on
and the more time that passes
the more I see everything different
I see images like water flowing over a window pane
sometimes I wish it wasn't so blurry
just like these photos
taken in reflections of a greyhound's windows & ceilings  
it was so cold outside, even for January
I was with someone I loved
but even back then it was blurry
we went to Chicago on an overnight bus
left from Minneapolis on an adventure for us
he took me places
and I took him
he was my gps always leading me somewhere new
a few months later
he left at different stop while I kept riding
I soaked the denim of my mother's jeans
as I cried into her knees
it's been ten years and I think I'm still wandering
melting down ice with my fingertips on windows
following the blurred lights
and while I know I'll never love you again
I'll always love you back then
Emma Katka Feb 2021
I chase after melancholy
like a toxic lover I'm begging to stay
by the time I'm back drowning in it
I just want it to go back away...
what a beautiful melody
a symophony of strings playing just for me
bittersweetly...
I carry shame with me like a pocket knife
scar tissue forms no matter how lightly you're cutting
insecurity and jealousy is damaging
I want you to need me
while I don't need anything...
are you waiting for me to write a poem about you?
I'm waiting for too much way too soon...
I don't get nearly as lost as I used to,
just a little confused
everyone else remembers details I never want to
youthful while longing for my youth
if I'm an old soul
I'm a pair of vintage dark blues
freying hems just add to the character
but I'm a little too broken in
so wear me down gently
Emma Katka Jan 2021
What we hate in others we often hate first within ourselves. Projections get old and the light eventually burns out. Face the darkness, let it die.
Emma Katka Jan 2021
I used to want to live alone more than anything else. It was one of my greatest desires for so many years. Presently, I’ve been living alone for almost two years and I love it. However, during moments of vulnerability, whether I’m sick, experiencing depression lows, or struggling with my anxiety, I always find myself wishing for a friendly or familiar face to pop in my doorway and say hello or just ask how I’m feeling and then pop back out again. I find myself wishing I wasn’t alone more often, even just wishing for the noises of someone else’s presence in the next room, to know someone is near that I know and trust like when I was living with my family. My entire life I’ve been introverted, soaking up my alone time like a sponge and relishing in it. My bedrooms have always been my small spaces of sanctuary for art, expression, meditation. My entire home has become that for me now. I’m so in love with the space I’ve created for myself and I don’t want to disrupt it, but I am always alone now. Maybe I’m not sure what it is I’m craving. I’m working on identifying it every day. I feel so unfulfilled. I used to think I was unsocial, but I think I’m just quiet and reserved. I love to observe and reflect. I love to exist quietly next to people who don’t poke at me for entertainment or answers, but rather just enjoy my company and I enjoy theirs. I’m grateful for friends and acquaintances who enjoy being quiet with me. (And I have them, y’all know who you are, I love you). I think I just miss PEOPLE. Introverted tendencies aside, I have also always been someone who enjoys connecting with others, going out and making new acquaintances, and then going home to enjoy my alone time and recharge. 2020 has made me feel even more disconnected from other humans than ever before. Scrolling social media contributes to my anxiety and panic attacks. When I think about going out and being social outside of my safe spaces (home and work), I feel like I’m going to throw up from anxiety. Imagining someone new to come into my home makes me afraid of that vulnerability. Such a strange feeling to simultaneously desire & fear human connection and vulnerability. I’ve been pushing myself into a dark realm of loneliness for so long now. I’ve isolated myself away from people who try to connect because of insecurities and fear of vulnerability. Fear of being hurt. Fear of letting someone down. I think I’ve let a lot of people down over the years. Guilt is a poison that takes control in small but volatile ways. Guilt and insecure has pushed me back into the shell of myself time and time again. The shell gets old. The shell gets lonely. The shell needs a window or a door, no one knows where to knock anymore.
Emma Katka Jan 2021
When I was young
everyone’s house had a signature scent
I’m not sure where time went since then
but nostalgia can still be conjured up so easily
whether it’s from chlorine pools or beef jerky
crisp winter air can make me feel heavy
mixed with stale cigarettes and a chevy
heavy exhaust, oil leaks, rusting
lime chips and PlayStation 3, losing
telling the gas station clerk my boyfriend dumped me
high off fumes of my own misery
it sure liked your company
but I kept things moving
I remember the fresh snowfall on dimly lit streets, burn cruising
cigarette stains on callused fingers catching on the fabric of my jeans
secondhand smoke still smells good to me
depending on what you’re smoking
I want to forget so many feelings
and relive so many more
nostalgia is so thick lately that it’s seeping into my pores
I miss too much
And not enough
I’m not good at showing love
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