Kate Louise

Kate Louise Oct 2013

you have the privilege
of not having had experienced
the love you'd nurtured
being ripped from your arms
and throat
and chest,
until you became a cavity.

Kate Louise Sep 2013

Gloomy

are you feeling dark and gloomy?
black as a dusty chalkboard
spooky like foggy street lights
like bruises
and
gooey, scabby knees
are you feeling spooky?
do you want to hide in your white room
and put out cigarettes on your tongue
or press them to your curtains
do you want to set the room on fire?
how far will you go to turn your insides out?
you paint those walls with charcoal
from the inside of your lungs

are you hurt?

Kate Louise Sep 2012

Risk

I’ve never seen his skin,
But I’ve traced the curve of his ribs
Drawing star maps on his anatomy
I’ve witnessed the blade of his hip
Scratched his spine
And run fingertips across his collar

And last night I couldn’t sleep
Watching a set of fragile wings smaller than my pinkie nail
Circle the glow of my lamp, transfixed
After bobbing in and out of the lampshade,
It sputtered and fell onto my bedside table
Moths never know light is lethal

Kate Louise Sep 2012

Lysol

The soap in my downstairs bathroom reminds me
Of the ooze that leaked from a pregnant snail
After I mutilated her shell to use the meat as bait.
Forcing a hook through her body and casting it into a lake,
I waited for a fish to swallow the tiny knife
And hoped it would get lodged in his esophagus.
I pulled his lungs from the water
And laughed as he writhed at the end of my string.

I don’t fish anymore.

Kate Louise Sep 2012

unless

i never know what you’re thinking because you don’t look at me with feelings,
you speak to me with clever words crafted specifically for this purpose
you know all the right things to say.
i’ve never heard a spontaneous phrase leave those deliberate lips of yours.
i develop a habit of speaking to you in short bursts;
thoughts that are already leaving my mouth before they’re finished.

you’ve been faking it so long even you forgot it was an act.
you’ve forgotten how to smile.

Kate Louise Sep 2012

Thomas

I watch you smoke Neptune for the last time outside your front door
Listening to you talk about music or the weather
Your hand twitches and the cobalt glass shatters in three pieces at your feet, but you don't even look down and continue your monologue
The dry air between us heaves a smokers cough and sighs

In the den, under low ceilings and blurry repercussion
Ciphering through lots of nothing on tv
You settle on some garbage show
But end up kissing me instead

I had to leave at one thirty five
*Someone always has to leave eventually

Kate Louise Sep 2012

object

it’s not fair.
i waited for you for ninety days
and you never told me you only intended
to have a make-believe romance
for fourteen days,
then leave me high and dry
not even a week after i really fell for you.
you didn’t mean to,
but you were playing with me.