earnestly yours, Kim

| my poetry of all things beyond happiness and the opposite of it |

alone.

some nights are too hard to handle,

when you’re in bed,

wanting to hold his hand and

counting the seconds before you

kiss.

some days,

you picture yourself

sitting at a cafe, waiting,

as he comes and hands you the hot chocolate he paid for,

or early grey tea, or whatever it may be.

one day, he’ll say the words

i love you,

and you’ll know he meant it,

and you’ll know you feel that too,

and you’ll know he is yours,

and you are his.

tonight,

i blinked, and

blinked, and

blinked.

and he just wasn’t there. there wasn’t a he to look forward to.

he ceased to exist.

k.

Waves

And slowly,

the waves washed up on the shore,

and gently brushed up against her toes,

as he stood behind her,

and his lips brushed up against her neck.

-k.

Her Light, Her Love

to the longing ones

He was light,

and she- darkness.

Heaven was in her hands,

as they intertwine fingers,

and wrap each other in their arms.

Darkness

ceased to exist

the moment they locked eyes…

Darkness existed,

once the light-

he,

was gone…

She needed her light,

she needed him.

-k.

 

One Last Time

Grasping the air

as if it were his hands,

she needed to hold onto him,

just one last time,

before he became

a memory floating in within the air.

-k.

Kiss me.

With no meaning,

no intentions,

no purpose.

Waiting for the warmth

of his lips to touch

mine,

and linger all over me,

I just wanted him to

kiss me.

-k.

He Doesn’t

“Sometimes, I miss you

and the memories of

us,”

she told him.

“Do you?”

He paused, and in silence

her thoughts floated in hopes of him

missing her back;

Missing the happiness she gave him,

and the love that they shared.

Her heart raced out of curiosity, and the unknown of his feelings.

He looked at her

concerned and with sorry,

and with genuine honesty,

he said

“I don’t.”

-k.

 

she really does miss

him…

she misses

the way they held hands,

walking down the street back to school,

swaying arms like little 3rd graders on the playground…

she misses

when he saw the world,

his world,

when he looked at her.

she misses the day he told her he loved her

and meant it…

she misses loving him,

knowing he loved her back.

she misses

him.

 

French Kiss

 

Lips pressed

in between her legs,

the warmth contrasting

against the cold of her bare skin,

and without even saying,

and with only a kiss,

he spoke to her in French.

-K.

To a friend lost in love…

When he looks into his

warm, light brown eyes,

his own eyes gleam,

his heart races,

his own thoughts run wild,

with love,

and with care;

yet all he did,

was look into his eyes.

-k.

She misses talking to him…

She really does.