poems

I got a message from an old boyfriend, asking me to be penpals, and wishing me well. But dating him was like chasing the wind.

It's wild that I chased the wind. When I felt like running after something, and something felt like nothing and now nothing keeps trying to play tag.

I know how the wind feels.
Somedays I think
I'll meet you outside my window,
but when I look out
all I see is rain.

Hey I know it's late, but I think I left some of my stuff at your place.
I think the back of my neck maybe somewhere near your ps3.
Or maybe by your bong.
I think I may have left my favorite pair of socks and the
small of my back. I mean what really matters is that black dress,
I kinda need it this weekend
Oh, and also that point when it hurt and I fought back tears.
I can wait until the weekend, but if you're home and still up,
could I pop in and grab my stuff?

constantly thinking. chaotic.
i'm constantly thinking. neurotic.
accelerate. foot's on the gas.
ready to brake. turn. check the mirror.
fifteen seconds ahead. flip a switch. switch a lane
turn. slow down. angle & timing. distance & angle.
turn the wheel slowly. gradual. smooth. controlled.

what does he think. time ticks. ticks of the signal.
silence.
speak. check mirrors.
fifteen seconds ahead of us.
fifteen miles of decisions in the rear view of
my psyche.

young drivers

a blessing and a curse
imagine too much sensitivity
couldn't swallow a bite because
i could feel it too much in my throat.
place your hand on my shoulder
slap.
a rush of electricity upon contact.

like a fox on the highway, dodging
judgement, anxiety, social disturbance
speak. check mirrors.
ten over the speed limit.

wildfire kisses.
eye contact like splinters.
but he can't hide a smirk.

bumps left. bumps right. big hands

no consent. bumps. brush. coast. wrap. lope. rope.

no words. no exchange. just bumps and bumps

gropes and grabs

unwrapping my presents, tearing paper

There is a glass that separates me from you.
I can't tell if its visable, if its clear or opaque

There is a glass that separates me from you.
I think you can see it. I think you know its there.
Stares. staring at me.
Or are they staring at the glass.

If they looked away, did they look away from the divide.
Did they look away from me.

There's a glass that separates me from you.
Its stiff. Its thick. Its cold. Like classroom lighting.
Its enclosing. Its plastic wrap. And I
don't have enough air to breathe.

kvitka poems