http://slow.writerscafe.org/gerhardusk The original writings of author G Lucas Kolthof en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776015447 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Just Wait ...Just waitbefore you kiss me.Take a second.Look at me. You are so new, yet familiar. Right now, you don't know tastenor how hands intertwine,how bones exhale as you let go. You will never see me in this light ever again.Take in the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/2109544/ He tells mehe doesn't want to hurt me. Silence. I scoff.He cannot hearthe dead pang ofcrescendoing staticgetting lost inthe signals ofburnt out lighthousesguiding me some placeI want to call home,    home,       homey  o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/2109543/ Please do not touch my hands anymore, my ring finger is brokenand I refuse to wear a splint.Question mark. Call it what you want.I am not here for false claimsand cryptic verses,this heart is hangingon the rear view mirrorbetween rosary and debris.This time, my handswere .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/2027790/ He said all I write about is cigarettes and smoking blunts and the tempest of my relationships. I cannot seem to just be happy anymore. I scoffed. Told him I am just trying to have a good time. 26 to be 16 again. I do not need this heartache that I have become so familiar with. So young. So naiv.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/2025812/ Get high withyour supposed to be boyfriend.Realize he's an a*****eas he ignores you for3 hours playing on his phonewhile texting his actual boyfriend. Realize you don't love anyone,(not even yourself)as you sit in a McDonalds parking lotfor those 3 hourswriting someone else's.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/2019935/ When I can't sleep at nightI stare at the empty side of my bed,and wonder about the thingsI would tell youif you were laying rightNext to me(1) when I was littlea flowerpot fell from the balconyand i stared at the beautiful messall the pieces had madeuntil I became sadit wasn.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/2016634/ Saturday is the most poetic day of the week.Wake up: hit the snooze at least five times. Told myself to wake up early and get a workout in before the sun notices breath,the frigid exhale of a cold bedroom because the heater turned itself off. Yet here I am quarter past ten in t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/2016633/ They named me after a navy soldier.I taste a dead body carried into currents.I guess this heart feels as a tombstonefor innocent bystanders bearing witnesswithin thickets of blood stained rifles.My papa used to be in the navy, tatted anchors on hisbandaged biceps and mastered a tough guy.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1988855/ Like a flower pressed against someone's clenched fist will leave a final gift of scented skin holding selflessness to whom has become killer - I must remember this when someone destroys me again. I know you'll be a good man for another and I will be to blame for never being good enough. You neve.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1956085/ I may not look like what I have been through;the typical melodramatic starving artist studying paintings against cement sidewalksonly to be understood with intention of becoming lost Within a maze of wandering mysticism,but believe me when I tell youthat I will never have enough pain.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1943050/ I’ve learned how to dismember my ligamentsFor those who need body parts, how toDigest vomit burning the stomach lining. I’ve learned how to read the bible As a poem and not a story, asA way of life; not an outline of life. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1916555/ Its another Saturday night and I’m supposed to contain earthquakeserupting from this broken field of heartbeats.But I can’t. These tremors are overwhelming. Everything I said last night was a multitude of natural disasters. Between forest firesand tsunamis all colliding within howling bl.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1911713/ There is a place where we can still be in love; merely two gentle skulls, as birds sing above.Underneath the oak tree where the lilies grow, roots digging among the soil where heartbeats show.The seasons change, and field mice used to play in our rib cages, and although&nbsp.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1904151/ Real talk. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1871756/ I am open palms of contradiction.Even my mother trembled as she placed her arms around my heavy shoulders. Behind laugh lines singing crescendos of fake smiles, I ask;do my tears ever roll down your cheeks?Is there anything worse than the silencecoming from your brother and sisters?Pleading, begging.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1867189/ I called your phone today.Correction -- I tried calling you today.After the third ring,I hung up becauseadmitting I wantedto hear your voicewas much more harderthan simply walking away.I tried writing a poem today.Correction -- I tried to deny your taste.After making a chai vanilla tea,I sat in dark.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1846877/ A poetic list. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1846874/ One day I took off my glassesand opened up my eyes inside a sideof a universe I didn’t get to choose,I didn’t get to paint melancholy hues yet they simmer like burning sunsetsagainst these lips - like arguments fallingout of my voice box with flowers plucked and left on the ground. I use.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1845091/ Take this hoodie, boy. I know you’re cold, I seegoosebumps swimming against the tide of yourcrossed arms becauseyou don’t know who I am.You’re pretending not to cry,but that shine in your eyeisn’t because you burn bright, boy. I’ll ignore the fact you justflipped me off.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1838437/ They asked me to write a poem.For who? Nobody.All I remember is being tied in a chairand then condemned to their torture �" they are pouring fresh cement  over these vocal chords, punching me in the stomachif I bite their fingertipsbecause I’m not supposedto speak about this.O.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1838436/ The poem starts off with a conversation, and sometimes when you’re mildly speaking with someone you find yourself spilling things you didn’t know you could say, and sometimes we distant ourselves from association, and sometimes the person we think is the coolest cat in the room is nothin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1830247/ You have a smile that can make the sun jealous. Brushing this compliment off likeswatting a fly away from your face. You’ve never really believed me.I don’t blame you. I understandthat we never considered ourselves to be addicts,but we still plunged heart shaped needles filled withchance.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1817493/ Some of us love badly. Sometimes the love is the type of love that implodes. Folds in on itself. Eats its insides. Turns wine to poison. Behaves poorly in restaurants. Drinks. Kisses other people. Comes back to your bed at 4am smelling like everything outside. Asks about your ex. Is jealous o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1807476/ I tried to focus on your eyesyet there is nothing calm aboutthis tremor building inside my palms;these hands clenching fists are also as delicate likerose petal brushes against porcelain. Yet if the glass is half full,to some it is half empty; the point ishow long can you hold this glass?What if I t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1801785/ These are the things they don’t teach you in school:you will want to grow up, and whenyou do, you’ll wish you never did. You will sit on abandoned rooftops waiting for the sunrise’s brush strokes from  a dawn’s early kiss while listening to Back to Black, a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1796584/ I live inside different shades. There is never a single solace. What I’m trying to explain are thesewaves of mania and weeks of drowningthat I constantly find myself treading, practicing this dead man’s float centuries.You couldn't understand how many honest lettersI have sew.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1795764/ 01.Ego.As it often does,creating an entire dimensionwhere the presenceof a conscious basing perceptionsto embrace for the world ahead,and sometimes we hurt each other in the process.02.You bleed with rain forestscrying crimson along branchesdripping from a mist lingeringfor any visitor walking thr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1794842/ your mind is a sprouting flower; bliss moments of learning how to open up. my heart are thorns dripping scarlet; always pricking those who hold close. I guess this is why skin is delicate, for this is how we speak wound. tongue tied romance riddles can only mean this cold heart is tiresome of sh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/gerhardusk/1792208/