Poetry
Katie Hoyme
I Used To PaintNow I sit on cold stones Pretending theyıre giving off heat Like when Iıd place my hand on the icy window To make the bus ride seem shorter I used to dream. My heart would jump At the sound of your voice Like the power lines in my county All connected to me I used to love. When sheıd write, or send boxes Iıd feel like a special person Like when Iıd wake up from a dream Where I was a princess I used to hope. Upon removing my hands from the keys Iıd soak up the applause Like riding a bike for the first time Being chased by a loving parent I used to believe. The steady beats beneath me Tearing up the ground Would match time with the beating of my heart Like watching your Grandpa die I used to ride horses. Each stroke of color On a perfectly blank canvas Would trickle down into my eyes Like watching a perfect sunset After a sultry, simple day I used to paint.
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