Love Poem

Memory

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

I memorized your smile
so I can find it every
time I close my eyes to dream.
The wrinkle of lip,
scar of dimple, crack of tooth.

They are with me still.

I memorized the angle of cheekbone,
every cut of skin stretched,
the soft roll of forehead.
I counted each crease embedded.
Every freckle and discoloration,
the squint of eyes and the way
they shine my reflection.

I  know these parts in your absence.

I conjure them still
on the nights when my desire
to be a good woman is broken
by the solitude of my cavity;
on nights when I close my eyes,
and let you enter my mind.

Little girls are not supposed to fall in love
with little girls and despite self taught ambivalence,
your memory lingers. I find myself a scratch
on record, set to repeat. to repeat. to repeat. to repeat.

“Memory” is previously published in #TrueStory 2015.

10 Things I Never Told You Because I Knew Better

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

1) You hurt me.
Perhaps it was pride
or a small bruise on
left ventricle, but
sometimes when I take
a deep breath, I still
feel the sting.

2) I never believed
the stories your sold
to my patient ear. I
only heard the harsh
words and the criticism
you spat at my face.
Those are the only words
I really remember.

3) I liked the way
you kissed my forehead
when I rested beside you.

4) You reputation proceeded
you. It was my own faulty
wiring that placed my hand
on your door. I always knew
what I would find.

5) The first time we had
sex was awkward and disappointing.

6) The second time we had
sex, you said I made you
anxious which is why you went
flaccid to my touch. I don’t
know if you lied
for my pride or yours.

7) It was wrong the way
you lead me to believe
you genuinely cared for me.

8) Even to this day,
I still like when you
smile at me. Despite it
all, I smile back.

9) Even if we did exist
in some alternate universe,
we would never fit together.

10) I forgive you.
I forgive myself.

“10 Things I Never Told You Because I Knew Better” is previously published in Rabbits for Luck (2016).

Safe as Houses

/ Katrina Kaye

Katrina Kaye

You are not my last resort;
I just didn’t have anywhere else to go.

You allow me access to
the far side of your leather chair
and reluctantly gather your grandmother’s
folded quilt and spare pillow from hall closet,
stale and stiff from lack of use.

My intention is not to reclaim
the former comfort of the living room
we once shared, nor reminisce
the passing of a romance which outlasted
its welcome.

It has been a long time
since you have found
my endearments in the form
of wet towels on the floor
or shoes left in the hallways.

But you don’t have to love me anymore
to let me sleep on your couch.

I can cook you breakfast
without imagining your fingers
sulking the lip of my jeans
and I can pretend there
was never a time my body
folded like paper under your fingers
as I sit across the table from you.

We can deny the last two years
of pelting rocks against plaster walls
until they were unable to hold up the home
we painstakingly pieced together.

We can pretend we don’t
remember the full moon we crushed
into a single stone that shone greater
than the sun when held in our cupped hands.

Despite the comfort of the way you
arch your eyebrow and the familiarity
of my name on your tongue,
I know how it will end.

I’ve seen this episode more than once.

It is only for a couple of days
till my feet stand sober,
until I can find a shelter for tired eyes,
a place to boil my water.

Soon we will resume our steps
in opposite directions,

and brick our skeletons
into the wall where their
rattle will eventually
shudder to a bare tremor.

“Safe as Houses” is previously published in the collection, my verse…, published by Swimming with Elephants Publications, LLC in 2012.