Monday, 24 April 2017

promise

once there was a boy named bee 
upon my knee

softly telling me how rivers
did not reach the sea in the year 
twenty twenty three

some were black others blue
in twenty twenty two
and none could you wash your
self in

his eyelashes fluttered 
feeling me shudder
i could tell 
he honestly knew 

he unbuttoned my collar 
i cried and hollered and then he promised 
just breathe

then rolled up our sleeves so carefully
we could see those cuts on
our arms

with one finger 
he crossed my lips
tenderly looking into my eyes
and

we existed quietly there
until about quarter past one
bee upon my knee
and me

i wondered if all of the darkness
 he shared

could 
     ever
         be
          undone

yet i knew our

                 pain
             was
         the
same


- KatYa, 2017

Saturday, 22 April 2017

journal # 22 of april

the sunlight fell and we rose up
 to meet it everyone
 on the street

it burst into constellations
of broken glass
in the road

we stretched into lengths of newfound
lands verdant green were we

thin strips
followin the tracks
out to where grass prospered

here we forgot all those lives
in the newspapers they
stacked up against
 us

the rainy days
we missed them