kem ann

Poetry flows through the stream behind our skin

Alcohol, caffeine and liquor had been our favourite mixed of pills to fill in the empty corners within,

Sadness became a permanent resident of us

Which includes self doubt as a familiar guest who annoyingly visits at the most unexpected time,

Our palms grasp to each pen we could reach for the purpose of holding all the cracked bones;

Ourselves have unwillingly collected

Pages have thickened for all things

We chose not to utter, yet decides to be dotted by a mash of liquid emotions and ink

The amount of apologies now exceeds the line of i love yous and oftentimes being said, simultaneously

Which isolates our mind to feel the right way

We have been each other’s ears and arms

for days we feel lesser

and it’s been that way for quite some time now

Though physically we rarely touch,

But the connection still firmly exist

Through shared writings and songs.

—

To my favorite poets,

Here is a celebratory note to us

For letting ourselves move onward,

Despite the scars and fall outs,

The dents and walk outs,

We bloomed and grew to be our own art,

We have been strong for so long,

With that alone,

Is something to be proud of,

Let us continue to be the art;

Others could not afford

Here’s to falling,

and holding,

and healing.

Scandinavian apartment | photos by Petra Bindel