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 Aug 2016 Imperfection
aa
do you remember how much i loved you?
i do.

i remember it like the soft breeze blowing in my hair
nice, yet chilly.

what i remember the most is the words that i uttered
that last fight
when you got tired of trying (or maybe pretending)
to accept me
and i got so fed up with you never accepting me
after all those years.

i remember how i walked out so confidently
without looking back
when all i wanted was to turn back
run to you
hold you
and tell you
'please don't give up.'

but i didn't.

i remember how much i wanted you
to come back and tell me you're sorry,
tell me we could make this work.

but you never did.

and i was too proud to say the truth.

because truth is,
i still care.
i think i'll always care.

though if anyone asks me,
i'll never admit it.
more than you think i do
 Jun 2016 Imperfection
Scum bag
maybe it was your laugh
or maybe it was the way you always knew what to say
but maybe it was your deep brown eyes that made me melt.
or it could of been your soft hands always on me
maybe it was how you touched my mind before touching my body
and maybe it was the way you held me that made me know everything would be ok.
I really don't know what it is about you.
but I know one thing
I am completley in love with you and everything about you.
Women like me do not fall gracefully,
we stumble over our spines, trip over
our vowels, and collapse into your arms.

Our hearts are open books,
Russian novels containing fifty pages
on the way your voice drifts across
the telephone wires each night.
Our hearts are first drafts,
unedited verses about each and every
person we have ever loved: the stranger
on the subway, the girl who gave us a balloon,
the boy who stole our virginity
but not our heart.

Women like me will love you from a distance
of a thousand syllables while laying in your bed,
we will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible,
and when we leave you will finally understand
why storms are named after people.

- Katrina M.K

— The End —