Ink Blots

By K.A. Ralston

In her debut poetry collection, Ink Blots, K.A. Ralston takes readers on a journey through heartbreak, grief and loss in order to find healing, self-acceptance and love. She writes intimately but her words echo universal experiences and truths. Divided into three sections by theme, Ink Blots offers words for every season of life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.A. Ralston
• Release date: Apr 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985832716

Book preview

INKBLOTS

BY

K.A. RALSTON

Ink Blots copyright © 2022 by K.A. Ralston. All rights reserved.

Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the context of reviews. Cover Design by K.A. Ralston

July House Publishing, LLC

www.karalston.com

ISBN: 979-8-9858327-1-6

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022933798

For Ryan, the love of my life, and Theodore, the light of my world.

Mom and Dad, thank you for letting me be a dreamer.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PART I: SHATTERED

PART II: MENDING

PART III: WHOLE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PART I: SHATTERED

secrets slip from my lips

you swallow them with your silence

- naive

the things we don’t talk about

fall into the ever-widening chasm   

between                              us

seeds that go unnoticed

until

they sprout through fissures

in the foundation beneath our feet

saplings that grow until

they are greater than us

we are crumbling

under the weight

of the things we don’t talk about

when i was learning to be vulnerable

you handed me bricks and mortar

so i built myself a wall

i became a citadel

unbreachable

c r u m b l i n g

f r o m

w i t h i n

for far too long

i have warmed my lonely bones

by fires fueled from straw promises

- match girl

after the wildfire that was you

only the stink of smoke remained

in my hair

in the pores of my skin

ravaged by your blue-burning flame

i am a barren, scarred landscape

i used to roll your name

around my tongue like honey

now i spit it out like sand

and no matter how i try to wash you away

some grain of you remains

burrowed deep

in the soft flesh of my cheek

embedded in enamel

you are the grit between my teeth

why is it my nature

to pick, pluck, and pull

at a loose thread

until it all unravels

and when it does

have the audacity to say

it was bound to happen

sometime

or another

- self destructing 

i miss the girl

who chased her dreams

instead of accolades and applause

- performer

i kept your sweatshirt. you know the one.

faded and picked with age.

stretched sleeves and hem.

the one you stripped off your back on our first date

revealing the ridges of a scar on your spine

the pale flesh of your stomach

and the rise and fall of your chest.

then long after i had learned the scent of you

the shape of you

the