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And here I stand,
watching my whole world fall—
the leaves from trees,
and I for you.

-k.p
Now published in Izzie & Sky Magazine
All she ever wanted was the touch of his hand-
A request which was far too much to demand,
For he was a very sought-after young man,
And to him, she was but another small grain of sand.

So she whimpered in her room at night, alone in her bed,
Replaying their few conversations over in her head.
She wished on every star, "Just let him hold me," she said,
"And if that's too much to ask, then just let me die instead."

As time went by, and his graduation neared,
She lost a lot of weight; that date was what she most feared.
The last day she ever saw him, she wiped away her tears,
And soon after that, she ran straight off of the pier.

He heard the news the next day; he thought it a shame,
Though honestly he didn't really recognize her name.
He went on to pursue a life of fortune and fame,
Without another thought about the girl he could have saved...
And when there’s nothing
left to write about,
I look towards the leaves,
noticing how they let go
with the knowledge that
a season of growth
will arrive again soon.
I revisit the songs
that remind me what it
feels like to be free,
and embrace this warm
feeling that resides
deep in my chest
when thinking about
the people who love me.

And all at once,
ink is spilling out
the mouth of my pen.

-k.p
now published in local wolves magazine
blood that has washed away so
promptly in the past is
now circling the sink drain.
leaving everything in shades of red,
this red is all i see.

and i'm in love with
distant memories;
i'm in love with
last night's dream—
always right here with me,
just simply out of reach.

-k.p//out of reach
lately,
this hospital room
has felt more like home
than anywhere else,
with days spent fearing
gravestone silence and
latex stings.

and when our tears
meet the ground,
they sound a lot
like sirens, and
we are just ghosts
condemned to
brittle bones.

-k.p//sirens bring us home
thursday evenings
wrapped in stiff sheets
that leave me feeling
far from home,
bearing sacred memories
in scarred palms,
grasping for a moment
that passed long ago.

-k.p//unease
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