Welcome.

My name is Kait and I plan to use this blog as a place to publish my poetry and short stories. Writing has been a very large part of my life for over 10 years and I miss the release and satisfaction that I was able to attain through it. I have a lot of past works that have been edited to some extent and I simply wish to contain them all within the same place, even if it exists only in cyberspace.

If you are looking for somewhere to start, this is my favorite poem, Attempted Drowning, which was composed for my poetry workshop at Ohio University this past spring. It also happens to be the first poem that I posted on this site. I may, eventually, go back and reorganize everything into the proper evolutionary order.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, and feel free to browse whatever you may find.

Sincerely,
Kait M. Gallagher-Wilsterman

Dear Santa...

Dear Santa...
-Original Text November 26, 2013-

Snow falls softly, blanketing the village, filling each crevice,
Reminding me of the holes I hold in my heart,
The emptiness that resounds throughout my house.
Each flake falls like a star, inviting Christmas wishes from each path they cross.
Wishes seem so trite, so whimsical, so out of reach this year.
Maybe it gets easier.

Each tradition takes a backseat, each memory must be held dear.
Another year decorating, shopping, wrapping,
Hanging lights and ornaments on my own.
Halfway around the world, separated by miles and minutes,
Another holiday season will pass us by.
It must get easier.

The depression doesn't set in like before, but there is the despair.
Ever pulsing and holding just below the surface,
Never allowing itself to be pushed completely from my mind.
Thoughts of loss and loneliness creep in like a cold draft through the windows.
Nothing can be done to curb the chill.
It never gets easier.


Dear Santa...
Please make it easier.

As Yet Untitled Project

So, here is the introduction to a new project I've begun. I appreciate any feedback, as I'm still unsure of where/how this project is going to unfold. I am painfully aware of the lack of creativity in this introduction, but the rest of the premise is much more promising, I promise. Thanks.

As Yet Untitled
They say once upon a time isn’t real. They also say that you can’t live happily ever after. But when you think about it, who the hell are “they,” anyway? I’ve never met them and I’m not even sure that anyone should take what “they” say as the God given truth. I believe in happy endings. I believe in happily ever afters simply because I am living one. Sure, it took me quite a few years to get here, but what’s the fun in having everything come to you easily? No really, think about. And I’m sure you’ll come to the same conclusion I did...there absolutely isn’t any.

Memory

Memory
-Original Text March 25, 2005-

Pictures of you are crumbling on my wall,
But your image is still fresh in my mind.
I can see you walking away from me,
Seeming to forget so easily.
Laughing as you go,
Knowing how much pain you have caused.
Leaving me to sit and wonder what I did,
Because I know it's my fault.
It's always my fault.

I wish you would start to fade from my memory,
But each day, you're still as clear as before.
You're an ever present image in my mind,
A painful part of this moment.

And you can't just leave me alone.
You can't simply let these issues die.
I just want you to fade out of my life,
And maybe someday out of mind.

All I want is for you to be
One less painful memory.

Sophomoric Seductions

Sophomoric Seductions
-Original Text February 2007-

Maybe it was the twinkle in your eye
or the smile you gave me walking down the hall.
Maybe it was in the curls of your hair
or that grin with its perfect dimples on each side,
that always left me wanting to know more,
to know what that look was for.

Maybe it was the way your eyelashes were longer than mine,
even though I caked on my mascara every morning.
Or it was in the way you laughed at me
in the hallway or the science lab
and tied my shoes or took up my lunch tray.
Everyday.

Maybe it was the way your eyes mirrored mine,
laughing out loud and sharing every secret
without ever making a sound.
Yours were always more brown and beautiful than mine could ever be.
I changed the color constantly trying to get you to notice,
but you never did.

Maybe it was the time you kept looking at me,
barely, out of the corner of your eye.
That night before Christmas,
when your brothers wouldn't leave us alone,
and we both knew exactly where that night was going.
And I pretended not to notice.

Maybe it was the way you saw straight into my soul
as we lay silently on your couch.
The rest of the world slipped away
and all I could hear were our heartbeats.
I stopped breathing and hoped my life would end
long before that moment ever would.

Maybe it was simply the way you looked at me,
like you had me all figured out,
but couldn’t begin to understand me.
So often I should have felt disappointment,
yet you always managed to impress me.
And I don’t know why.

Maybe it was all in your eyes,
the way I felt safe with your hands on my back,
and convinced myself that the debate between
love
and lust
wasn't really on your mind.


But then again,
it's not like you ever knew the difference.

Support Group

Support Group
-Original Text May 14, 2008-


I’m sure she thought she was just a face in that crowd.


No one special, with a fading future
And an even darker past.
But then again, who there isn’t?
Just a nameless nobody
Who happened to sit down next to me
At my Tuesday night meeting.

After watching her for awhile, it was easy to see
The sadness and damage in her emerald green eyes.
Sleepless nights and days of crying
Were expertly concealed by the layers of make-up on her face.
The podium microphone cracked,
Tearing my attention away from her face.


All I ask is that you
Come up and tell us your name.
Feel free to share as much or as little
As you’d like.


Said a man in plaid pants,
Who looked unsure of his own involvement within the group.

One by one everyone took their turn.
Walking to the front, giving their names,
Telling of their children and jobs and college degrees and
Anything they could to separate themselves from why they were here.

I watched as her turn approached
And was caught in the moment where she realized it too.
Watching her eyes widen
As I imagined a stream of thoughts
That she was unable to control, were
Flying violently through her brain.

Inhale.


Hi I’m Zoé
I’m twenty something years old
I don’t know what I’m doing with my life that I currently hate and can’t even begin to deal with today
I say the wrong things all the time and I hate how awkward I am in social situations like when I simply become a pushover because I despise confrontation and have no idea how to say no
I'm afraid of being happy because as soon as I am something terrible always happens
I hate my roommate for all of her complaining and lack of motivation and the way she never helps out around the house
I can barely tie my own shoes or tell time on an analog clock though I’m sure someone taught me years ago
I don’t wear a seatbelt anymore because I mostly hope I’ll die in some tragic accident that makes everyone who’s ever ignored me ashamed that they did
I’m in love with a boy who has forgotten that I exist which is terrible when all you do is dwell on the could have beens
and I’m mostly here because no one listens to me anymore and it’s driven me to alcohol, narcotics and crying.

I really just want someone to tell me everything will be alright.


Exhale.

We all watched intently as
She walked to the podium,
Silently trying to slip through the tile
And into the floor
As our eyes followed her down the aisle.


Hi. I’m Zoé.


Was what I heard myself say,
Staring out into the sea of forgotten faces
With a fake smile on my face and tears in my eyes.
All I wanted was to say more.

Attempted Drowning

Attempted Drowning
-Original Text April 7, 2008-

It was a long time coming,
This slow, hesitant walk to our world’s demise.
Three years or more of bitterness and contempt have led us here,
Though none could have guessed it would end this way,
On a forgotten Sunday night
In this lost and childish area of town.

Taking involuntary steps towards a shaded future,
Not one of us wishes to lead the way,
Guided only by the path we find in front of us.
Uncertainty thrives behind our glazed eyes,
As we all contentedly follow our feet farther from safety.

Wandering through skeletons of mortar and stone,
We find ourselves suddenly aware of our shared fate.
All of us were eternally bound together,
Destined to remain a part of each other,
Yet never again to be completely whole.

Empty pockets make no sounds at 3am.
Unlike those of people who forget
That there’s no need for I.D. on the guillotine.

Our walk continues, past the same places that we once called “home,”
They are now unfamiliar and threatening,
Perpetuating the fear that already swallows my brain,
As the gallows make their presence known.

Previously concealed, they rise from the landscape,
Nooses laughing as they long for our inhibitions and desires.
Knowing exactly why we have been brought here,
On this particular night, in this particular state.

The smell of alcohol dances before us,
Bolstering our courage and taunting our reservations
As we slowly register that there is no turning back now.
This is the final resting place, and
A mere fence separates us from our last few moments,
Forcing us to leave our torn jeans and weathered faces at the gate.
There is only blind justice here,
No bias or privilege is levied upon us.

We are given our last few seconds to consider the past,
To place it behind us and to finally live once more, in the present.
Collectively, we hold our breath and jump.

The water closes quickly over our heads.
I open my eyes and look silently ahead at my clouded future.
Dirt, grime and ambiguity are all that I can see
As I contemplate the idea of remaining
At the bottom of the deep end of the world forever.

But I cannot.

This is the end.
The end of the pain and the tears and the grudges.
The end of not knowing, of driving ourselves mad.
Of wishing that things were different,
And willing them to be.

This is the end.

No.

This is a brand new beginning.