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let me lay my palms
in that sunken space
between the contours of
your jawline and cheekbones.
let my fingers hide itself
within the secrets of
your jet black hair.
let me draw you close
and closer until
my face fits perfectly in the mold of yours.

it's alright to cry.
maybe your tears will wash the
doubts
hiding between your
lines and creases and the
fear
exuding from your pores.

let my eyes fathom
the depths of yours.
i am sure that hope and wonder
are just there sleeping beneath
and
until they awaken
and rise above the waters,
i will
look at you,
watch over you.
i will
embrace you
until your head
stills its throbbing,
until your skin
regains its glow and warmth
i will.
it's unfair that  i'm having the time of my life while you're always out there crying.
take me in and
   i'll take you out,
   i'll take you away
to a far, forgotten fantasy
   away from urban complexity, insanity.
we could
dive the depths.
climb the heights.
whisper our wishes
   to the evening breeze.
sing to the beat
   of bubbling brooks.
dance to the rhythm
   of rustling leaves.
ride the road
   of the winding river.
sail forth
   into the vast velvet ocean.
drink the moon glow
   that drips thick like milk.
swallow in
   the air's forgotten freedom.
with one hand
   reach for the stars
   that shine almost as bright as you.
with the other
   hold mine.

erase and escape.
rewrite reality.
lift up that heavy heart.
fall back in love with me.
so much algebra i think i forgot how to poetry....
Lazy Monday.
Raining Morning.
Inky pens.
Empty papers.

This 4-cornered room became a
Vast new world
When I met
You.

Your "What's your name?"
was more than a question, it was
An invitation to
A breath of fresh air,
A gulp of warm sunshine,
A waltz on green grass.

From small talk on the
Wet weather,
The films at the theater,
And our ******* professor,
Our lips spilled over.
Awkward smiles became
Shy giggles then
Uncontrollable laughter.

We pulled each other to conversations on
Artists Picasso, Van Gogh
Historians Constantino, Ocampo.
I told you about
Distant galaxies and the theory of gravity
While you said things on
Progressive policies and your farming family.
You said pick-up lines, I gave knock-knock jokes.
We tried to mash-up Let It Be and Let It Go.
Your mind was a treasure chest full of stories
Forever you
And your words are engraved in my memory.

All this ended though
When the clocks striked 3.
The session was over;
There's no reason to be here anymore
And so I guess it's best for us to just
Leave.

"It was nice meeting you."
But it's horrible that
We will never meet again.
What was us will just get lost in the plane infinity
For this moment that we shared
Is just a mere
Point of tangency.
The point of tangency is where a geometric line touches a surface once but never intersects it. This fictional poem is inspired by economic isoquant curves and budget lines, as well as all my awesome professors and classmates that I had this semester whom I will probably never meet ever again :(
I never heard her say "I love you"
But I did hear her say
"Wake up. Breakfast is ready."
"Here's some extra money."
"Make sure you bring an umbrella today."
"Buckle your seat belt."
"Did you do your homework?"
"I saved a seat for you."
"Be home by ten."
"Are you okay?"

Truthfully
I can say that
I feel love
Not because I hear it
But because I see it.
"I love you" is just a sentence unless you act on it. Show it, don't say it.
bury yourself between
sheets and covers.
stay all day
in your pajama and sweater.
watch the droplets
slide down the window in a race.
smell the hot cocoa
as the steam wafts to your face.
put out those blazing thoughts
with the sound of static rain.
maybe the chilly air
can ease those burning pains.
from busy to lazy,
the city's enfolded in peace.
at least for a moment,
all worries stand still and cease.
i'm ok i promise,
i just miss the rain.
you were a brilliant composer.
you piece syllables
together into symphonies.
your words are
carefully crafted into a masterpiece.

in my every waking
i am greeted with new songs
that escape from
your lips
like sun rays at the break of dawn.
i can listen to you sing unceasingly.

but
the time of the
days, months, years that passed
became the length of the
distance between us,
and your songs got
softer and
softer,
eventually fading
into silence.

it turns out that was just an intermission.

you came back and
your songs start playing again
but
now i can't dance to your rhythm;
i can't harmonize to your melodies.

you were a brilliant composer
but now
i can't find
what your words mean to me.
my poetry nowadays sound so "synthetic". i don't know, i just can't seem to write like how i used to.
Living with a partner who
Thinks they are fine
And refuses to get help
Is not an easy thing

Living with a partner who
I cannot diagnose
I am not a doctor
But they treat me like I am

You never know who
You are coming home to
Who he is with
Or who he will be

Why then do we
Always blame ourselves
And try to be better
When we were always
Good enough
To begin with.
 Feb 2015 Katelyn Knapp
Mikaila
Oh darling,
I've been at this game for a long, long time.
I can play it like a fiddle, this little tune.
I can win at it like a gladiator.
It was only a moment that I thought you noticed
The blood caked under my fingernails.
I realized quick
You thought it was mud
From the grave I'd dug out of.

Us here in the gutter,
We can't afford to be righteous.
We know our kind. We know our hearts.
For whatever I may be,
A little weak, a little cruel, a little vicious,
A little unfair
At least I have no delusions.
I refuse to dress up
The wickedness in me.
I am what I am, take it or leave it.

(You've left it,
Whether or not you admit it to yourself:
I hear it in the sharp edges of your voice
A How dare you?
As if I'm causing so much pain to the shambling masses
By managing mine through wit.
Cut me a break, with your broken chinadoll fingers,
Because I am shards on the floor
Doing my best.)


But I will recover:
I've been at this game for my entire life.
I am
Superb
At being abandoned.
You'll not see a thing from me-
It is my art.
Not a single tear, not a quirk in my smile,
You'll not hear a false note in my laugh
And I
Will always be laughing when it hurts
Because that
Is when it counts.
I am the warmer, the more charming, the life of the party,
The spark
Of the conversation
When I am hurting.
It
Is
My
Art.

I can play this tune like a fiddle,
And your mind with it.
My claws and fangs are my smiles
My "Go ahead, it's fine"s.
You'll feel not a whisper of resistance from me,
You'll see not a flicker of hurt
When with a flick of your tongue you lash me to ribbons
Over the pain I've disguised poorly for a moment-
For I'll not be so careless again: work will go into my outlets
So that no gauche misspeech can provide a thread for you to tug
And unravel me- no.
You'll see none of it, now that I am truly prepared.
Come to the rescue, guns blazing!
Add your bullets to the holes in my chest
Protecting someone who can more than handle
Little, limping old me.
I won't let it get me down
That you turn on a dime, dear.
Cause honestly, the only thing I have learned consistently from this life is:
                                                                               *You only lose
                                                                                  If you care.
 Feb 2015 Katelyn Knapp
AP
please* innocent one,
ignore my calls,
my shy glances,
my kind gestures,
i prey on you simply with lustful intentions,
because my sinning self is just as lonely,
just as scared of dying with no one to mourn for me,
and your body as it lay next to mine is so comforting,
yet, soon enough I'll still feel like I am alone,
even when your fingers are dancing crickets in my hair,
and your lightning bug eyes that flash hope within a dark world will soon burn out,
because my body rejects true love,
for it cannot feel such a blessing,
so save yourself now,
leave me before you are just as lonely as I,
the same way somebody left me,
because the world desperately needs your eyes,
as mine have already adjusted to gray
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