At times I want to 
shed out of my memories
but who would I be? 

.Laura Curren.










Sometimes I'm so subtle it hurts,
like my love is watching everything 
through the crack of a wall. 
Or I'm not this at all; 
my jealous heart smashes through 
& anything protecting me from 
making a fool of myself has flown off 
& away from me to the ground. 
After I may collect myself 
& try to piece together what erupted 
but what does it matter 
when it's already all out there? 

.Laura Curren.








Let me be shallow 
for a moment to wonder 
what you would taste like

Haiku 41 .Laura Curren.

Some try to 
dig under, 
climb over,  
or create doors 
by manipulation.
but 
walls choose
when to fall 
for a better view. 

.Laura Curren.










Summer is sexy
& winter is romantic;
my heart is weathered.  

.Laura Curren.

I want to center you 
with my energy.
I want to take all the reasons 
you're attracted to me
& melt them into keys 
for parts you've denied yourself
but found in me. 

.Laura Curren.

In the attic of
my hurt feelings, one day there 
won't be space for you.

.Laura Curren.





I was layering tissue paper flowers on my paper;
they were beautiful & I had to have more of them, 
I had to murder them in glue to make them stay for me.
I was blinded by the pretty colors of my creation. 
A few wasn't enough.

My first grade teacher came over to me & started plucking at 
my artistic mulch & saying "No! No! Too much! Too much." 
Later in the year, I drew with bright colored pencils
a mountain with five flowers; 
I wasn't finished but I turned it in. This art that I felt was unfinished won an award. 
The very same thing happened a couple years later 
(this time for my incomplete pumpkins in colored pencil). 
I had to seriously question 
when to stop whenever I was creating something
& even still with music, the internet, drinks, relationships, holding on to hours of the night & their conversations...I don't know when to stop. I hold on just a little too much. 
I feel it all at once. Unfinished art may prod at me
but I'd rather drown in what I find beautiful. 
I'd rather be a mess than question my completeness. 

.Laura Curren.

I want to feel  
like the colors in your eyes
are meant to reflect in mine,
like your hands
understand 
& make my blood dance to them.
I sweat to the magic of my nerves 
& I take you all in. 
The chaos of my mind 
melts into the shape of my hair 
like branches across your chest.  
I let all I think lay there, 
I let myself be undressed.

.Laura Curren.

Forget the world

    in my touch, 

forget it in my eyes,

    forget that it's rough.

Instead be rough with your desires;

    feed them by licking me up.

Don't stop touching me until you

    remember all the good.

.Laura Curren.

You may be older
but judgment means nothing to
my experience. 

.Laura Curren.







I was trying so
hard to be what you want, I 

forgot my own wants. 

.Laura Curren.

Love means wanting to
share even when the other 
is no longer there.

.Laura Curren.

For awhile there I wanted to be lost in nothing
I wanted to be a part of the couch
& my fantasies come untrue. I wanted to be
a reality t.v. character
saying entertaining & crude things,
getting drunk & stupid,
crying & calling back home.
I wanted to be the girl
from a movie with an inspiring title,
looking romantically lost
with her eyes in the rain
waiting to have her inhibitions & dress torn off.
I wanted to be crushed grapes & tears in a glass
& my feelings at the bottom of ice cream cartons.
I wanted to be every stereotype of heartbreak
until I scraped myself off pillows soaked with my sorrows
until I opened a goddamn window & let the outside wink at me through the blinds.
I wanted to be my own private mess
until I gave up on giving up
until I not only had but gave
fucks.
until this state of being
left without telling me.
My smeared focus
started to sharpen. this representation of me was no longer fitting.
This on sale version of me asking to be worn & loved at the cost of a lower value was a chapter but not my whole story. Once the map of all my thoughts, you became just a stop. A point to gather myself & move on. There's too much I have to see out there.

This slow strip tease of 
your personality makes
my heart sigh deeply. 

.Laura Curren.









Communication
wasn't our strong suit, but our

sex was a story. 

.Laura Curren. 

For awhile there I wanted to be lost in nothing.
I wanted to be a part of the couch 
& my fantasies come untrue.
I wanted to be a reality tv character 
saying entertaining & crude things,
getting drunk & stupid, crying & calling back home.  
I wanted to be the girl from a movie 
with an inspiring title, looking romantically lost
with her eyes in the rain waiting to have 
her inhibitions & dress torn off. 
I wanted to be crushed grapes 
& tears in a glass & my feelings at the bottom 
of ice cream cartons. I wanted to be every cliché 
of heartbreak until I scraped myself off pillows 
soaked with my sorrows. Until I opened a window 
& let the outside wink at me through the blinds. 
I wanted to be my own private mess until 
I gave up on giving up, until I not only 
had but gave fucks, 
until this state of being 
left without telling me. My smeared focus 
started to sharpen. This representation 
of me was no longer fitting. This on sale version 
of me asking to be worn & loved at the cost 
of a lower value was a chapter 
but not my whole story. 
Once the map of all my thoughts, 
you became just a stop. 
A point to gather myself & move on. 
There's too much I have yet to see out there. 

.Laura Curren. 

My heart feels thin &
dark, but like the moon, it will
be full again soon. 







Past loves have painted 
on the walls of my heart, their 

art fades but marks me. 

.Laura Curren.

There's nothing civil

about war, but my heart & 

mind have fought for years. 

.Laura Curren.

I want you to push deep into me
until we're the only ones who exist, 
until we're in another galaxy
& there's no air to breathe 
but you & me.
I want you to pull me into 
those black holes of your eyes. 
I want my exclamations to paint the skies
like chemical sunsets 
we watch from views too high.
I can't get down or see the ground.
I'm just floating here in your everything 
& your absence,
your light, your sound.  
I hold your words like stars 
& string them into constellations 
giving them meanings 
& interpreted feelings.
This magic fades at midnight 
but I always try to make it last. 
I try to make it mine but
I'm telling you I can't this time.
Sometimes fantasy 
must be sacrificed for reality.
I can't imagine you 
anymore. 

.Laura Curren.

When I start to build a bridge
of logic & what's best for me,
you interrupt this 
by looking at me. 
Each one of your eyelashes
are matches 
& this fire distracts my view.
Such a pretty sight
burning the stability
out from under me. 

.Laura Curren.








It's all about instant gratification,  
followers & likes, 
media politics, 
facebook soapboxes. 
It's all about your internet history 
haunting you with ghosts of past clicks.
It's scrolling through thoughts already 
chewed up & digested for you. 
Watching instead of being, 
wanting a distant approval,
worshipping the shopping mall 
for opinions 
&selfie comments. 

.Laura Curren. 






Sometimes romance 
is in those moments 
that make you laugh to yourself 
in a way that only you can understand.
I knew we were in it 
but we hadn't said it 
& I don't remember the context, 
maybe it was Britney's 2007 meltdown,
but I asked you 
"Would you still like me 
if I shaved my head?"
"I would still love you 
if you shaved your head," 
you said.
& there it was!
Just like that.  
You corrected me 
in the most beautiful way.

.Laura Curren.

When the words you choose for yourself
cause ripples in your calm,
the waves begin to crash inside 
& all control is lost to a pull 
that feels larger than you.
You're frightened into darker depths;
the air is lost, the sky is gone.
But as you're sinking,
you see a thread that gets thicker 
with confidence,
hold onto this 
& let it pull you up 
until you break the surface 
of a reality that hurts. 

When love's language is
no longer universal,
humanity ends. 






Your laughter 
is the sun 
waking up 
my sleeping heart.
My kiss 
is the moon 
pulling at your tides. 
The rivers 
of our nerves
ignite with life.
We are our own 
world.  

.Laura Curren.

Don't build your home 
on a volcano 
& then tell me 
how destructive 
the world is. 
 .Laura Curren.

I can tell you want to feed off of
my reactions. 
Your aggression murders the romance 
of conversation. Words are twisted
until I can't see their shape anymore. 
You want to pull the anger out of me 
so you can feel justified for your own. 
You want to feel in control.
You want to stomp loudly & carry a big stick. 
But I won't pull swords 
out of my throat like this.
I won't shoot poison arrows 
that blame bodies for being in the way. 
I can suspect at the core 
you're just a little boy inside, 
just a man who has suppressed cries,
& if pain stays in the corner it was cast 
then its shadow begins to 
rip the light out of the room. 

.Laura Curren.

"You're so
comfortable." 
you said scowlingly  
like the word
was a dirty pile of clothes,
like the word was actually un what it means.
Suddenly all I felt proud of 
was made small & kicked over.
But even more so unwhatyoucalledme 
was that it was true,
you were right.
I hadn't been running to my potential,
I was slow & sluggish in those pursuits. 
But my heart was always beating fast for you.

.Laura Curren.

I want to know everything there is to know 
about you getting old,
about you getting tired,
& taking it out on me
because I'm the closest someone to you,
because I feel it all from you
& you let me.
I'm the reflection in your eyes,
you notice the light & dark in mine
& this stays sacred with honesty.
We listen even when one or both of us is angry.
We keep passion blushing.
We slay stubborn hearts with jokes.
We uncross our arms to possibilities.
We rest assuredly 
that everything is alright 
in the morning.

I'm too sensitive 
to be a politician;
my heart governs me. 










Ask why he won't change,
but a better question to 
ask is when will you?

Love can be quiet;
it won't shout over your pride, 
please keep listening.






The best life advice:
pain is inevitable,
suffering is not.