be like a poem never will be written

how does one describe the exhalation of breath

the incomplete gesture the

tangible space suddenly

apparent?

there is a part of me died with you

a fragment

a trailing cry pulling at my hair

wanting to lash out and

break…

something to see

the color of blood as

a way in

as a way out

to look for you

all this is like a poem that never will be written

to die to find you

to leave this alien place premature

and come home

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reticent was the dawn

reticent was the dawn ona summer morning. the birds chatted outlandishly at the edge of the river. all the people couldn’t bother, full of coffee stepping on it, reaching speeds just shy of too fast for the highway.   -katya

k #archive

Atlantis, times three

Posted on July 28, 2013 by KatYa

i am trying to find myself

between commercials

apparently

i am located

somewhere deeper

than that

Atlantis

times three

i remember almost dying

the weight

was too great

i got

stepped on

like flagstones

I saw you there

we could touch

almost

through our

imperial pints

of tears

drowning

Atlantis

times three

i got stripped

like a stripper

but without

so much

a choice

off the walls

in the paint

in the darkness

the memory

faint

gracefully

i laced up

to give them

something

2 remember

gracefully

i tried then

2 forget

sometimes

i grabbed the knives

in the kitchen

and turned

toward them

screaming

its real painful

to look

i could drown

in it

Atlantis 

times three

i found me

by looking

baptized

by watercolor

bled down

in the city

bled out

to the valley

sweet canvas

of colors

shelters me now

the painted walls

i like to

leave them

this way

i am different

i am young

my spirit

touched by

the sound

of the colors

dripping down

Atlantis 

times three

is where

i am found

-Katya

July, 2013