Writing you,

Tonight I watched the last faint glow of the moon disappear forever behind the clouds and I thought that would scare me... But I'm more afraid of the way I felt the weight of your love lift off my shoulders, and terrified at the thought of mine being ball and chained to your ankle...leaving bits and pieces of me in every square inch of every footprint your dusty black shoes are walking away from...

And before I met you I couldn't understand how something so simple as love could stretch to the moon and back, but darling, somehow you made me believe that ours could... But nobody ever told me that Peru was farther away than the moon and 

I think your love is getting tired, love. 

And my knuckles are bruised from wrapping the "E" through my fisted fingers as many times as possible because it's only been 4 months and I'm selfish, 

                                        I know this,

But I can't let myself give you up so soon... 

Not when only 120 days ago I watched you tuck our "L" into your suite pocket, and waved goodbye to "O" and "V" as they stretched through city after city in an attempt to keep up with you and the beginning of everything any of us had ever known. 

And it was only when I lost sight of "O"'s beautiful arches and curves, and "V"'s glorious magnitude faded from view, that your voice no longer felt familiar. And the way your lips felt against the tip of my nose is but a faint whisp of some memory that only reappears in the darkest hours of the morning and the brightest of afternoons.

And I cried when I saw how stretched thin "E" was, and the vibrant colors that once made up my memories of you are now dull and peeling. 

And I started writing when I realized that some part of me wished I could let you go. 

I started writing when I realized that some part of me wanted to let you go... And I think that scares me more than the moon or our love ever could.

 

My World Revolves Around Wednesdays.

I left when you left darling.
I'm not exactly sure how to explain that,
but I'm gone now.

And I think it's because the seasons are still changing without you love.

The days feel devastatingly slow, and the nights are like death. But at least death sleeps. She spends her nights in beautiful silence, and I'm stuck inside my own head where everybody's voices feel thousands of volumes louder and my clothes are always sticking to my skin.

Sometimes it feels like your sweatshirt is the only thing that fits anymore... and sometimes I cry because now it smells more like me than you. And I hate me for that.
I  hate that I walk through the corridors of this college that's filled with people, and that I have never felt more alone in my entire life. And my headphones have become my new best friends because they trick people into thinking I'm cool enough to be sitting here alone...like I don't actually care.

And saying that I've only ever cared about you would be a lie, but it's a damn good one. It's one I wish were true, but if you must hear the truth it's that I don't think I'll ever care for another. 

And I guess that now it's easier to forget you. 

To forget us, because my heart only feels fractured when I'm not thinking about you.. And compared to the gaping wound that consumes every valve of this pumping organ at the very twinkle of a memory... It feels pretty alright. 

And it's 1:14 in the morning and I'm just remembering that I loved you.               

 I'm remembering that for 6 months you controlled every breath I took, and I'm remembering that I have to breathe on my own now...

it's 1:16 in the morning and I need you to teach me again. 

The tears stop at 1:20 

1:22 I forget.

What they don't teach you in high school.

365.242 days ago I made a promise.
182.621 days ago I broke that promise.
21 days ago I watched a beat up, old, pealing, maroon Mazda slowly pull away from the curb that it had grown so accustomed to outside of my house.
The black tread marks your tires left are still there. Only some what faded from the rain you've been missing out on.

These little black keys feel unfamiliar underneath my dirty fingernails...
but maybe that's because I was too happy to write.
Too perfectly content with the lot life had given me,
too swept up in the summer love I'd never before experienced.

"Can this last forever?"

The memories come pouring faster then I could have ever anticipated.

Memories of that summer that everybody envies. Where our skin is brown, and our hair is light. The stars witnessed way too many kisses and lots of "I love you" 's. And I'm sure they gagged at our PDA and the moon smiled when we fell asleep in the grass...oblivious to the wind that roared around us. And I know the planets giggled at our hurried mannerisms when we woke up an hour past curfew.

Evenings spent filled with laughter as our families battled to the death at wii sword fighting, and apples to apples. And always mother's comforting words when things always had a tendency to get too competitive...but I loved that about you. About us.

31 days were filled with bad reception and tearful phone calls...and I didn't think it would ever get any worse.

But what I wouldn't give to hear the sound of your voice right now at this very moment.
When I've just spent one of the first of many Friday nights without you.

Nobody ever tells you how lonely it gets.

365.242 days ago I made a promise.
182.621 days ago I broke that promise.
730.484 days from now I'm hoping to see those lovely brown eyes again darling.
I'm scared for 730.484 days from now...
But I can't wait to break more promises with you.

I'm selfish & I'm sorry.

I was hoping that the sun in Kansas would be different... That maybe I could burn away this "missing you" feeling. Or that I could swallow enough chlorine and you'd attend my funeral. But last night, Utah welcomed me  with open arms and today the sun looks the same. And I wish that didn't hurt so much. I wish you'd stop leaving, because I feel like our time is running out.

I wish I didn't feel like our time was running out.  

I wish my dad was as happy as he was in Kansas. I wish more people believed in mermaids. I wish more people liked cats. I wish Barnes and Nobles would let me take books for free. I wish 11:11 wishes came true. I wish poetry was easy. I wish growing up wasn't a real thing. I wish the mountains could talk, because I feel like they'd tell me beautiful things.  I wish the sun in Kansas was different. 

And I wish I didn't feel like our time was running out. 

But you've got a clock attached to your forehead, and your eyes keep reflecting September 22nd, and I can't look at you without crying. And when the water hits my mouth it tastes like memories... They're running down my arms and pooling at my feet.  

The bed starts to float,

and my pillows are drenched. 

The bathtub is full,

and the electricity is failing.

...I'm failing...

...I'm falling...

Part of me wishes I could make you stay...

And part of me wishes you'd leave tomorrow...

Because watching you move on is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, and forcing myself to do the same is almost harder.

We'll walk our paths alone and let fate decide if they meet again, and I'll write you and fate every day in hopes that my letters make a difference.

Paris Vs. Kansas

 

This is not a love poem.

                               This is not an angry poem.

                                                           This is not an I'm alone poem,

                                      Or a leave me alone poem.

                                                                                                    This isn't even a poem.

This is not a poem because I've spent this last semester feeling uninspired.

This is not a poem because I swore I'd make my journal cooler, and I didn't.

This is not a poem because I've procrastinated way too many blog posts to count.

 

This is not a poem because I'm too scared to write.

I'm too scared to write the words that could quite possibly break my heart.

They could quite possibly kill me, and if I'm being completely honest...        I'm not ready to go yet.

 

 

For a while, Paris started to feel old. So many sights already seen, so many people smiling at the girl who is so desperately trying to fit in.     It took on that musty smell. The one you find in your grandmas basement.

"Oh hey! Look grams! You left Paris down here in this box."

And I know you could never forget about Paris, but everyday I catch my mind taking a flight back  to Kansas...where the Koi fish swim in synchronized circles through my bones and I'm finally breathing my sighs of relief when I reach the top of my favorite oak tree and find the very spot where I crashed my grandparents golf cart.

 

I'm finally writing again,

with my feet in the sand pit and the cicadas singing in my ears.

I'm tempted to dip my toes in the fountain of youth...but only for a moment.

It isn't until the stars subside that I realize I'm already swimming in pond scum.

I've let the wind spin me in circles for far too long because I've always believed that this life had the best intentions for me.

That the tornadoes would always take me where I was supposed to go.

They picked me up, taught me how to do backflips, and then dropped me on my ass

in the middle of nowhere.

"Sorry Dorothy, but you're not in Kansas anymore."

 

 

You're in the adult-hood,

 and jobs, and taxes, and buying your own toilet paper

are punching you in the face.

And you're just now figuring out that tornadoes are bad

and backflips are for kids.

And the wicked witch of the west might actually be your friend,

because she's always been your mom.

and you're starting to feel bad for throwing so many houses on her,

and stealing her ruby red shoes because maybe that's how she felt "young again".

 

And I'll always love Paris and the time that I spent there, the words that I read, the people I met.

 

But I'll forever regret never visiting the Eiffel Tower...because that's something only

 

a tourist would do.

 

xoxo,

Kenzie

The Realest Talk I Could Manage.

Tonight I ate half a tub of icecream because I told myself I'd go off of sugar tomorrow...but let's face it, I probably won't. 

I'm reading a book about writing poetry and it told me that writers block was complete bullshit...so I stopped reading it because I don't want to believe that. 

I told myself I wouldn't censor what I say now that people know who I am. I mean, who I really am. But I'm already finding myself holding back. 

S/O to my haterz!!!!!!....because I'm trying really really hard to be friends with you, and you still don't like me. 

I promised myself I wouldn't be desperate, but I followed your group around at the dance last night like I was hooked to leash and I wagged my tail as hard as I could in hopes that you would see me...that you would realize that this is madness and that no boy could ever ruin our friendship. 

But just like that picture on Facebook, you've cropped me right out of your life, and I'm trying to tell myself that I don't care, but the tears that hit my hands as I hung my head are telling me otherwise. And the food that sat untouched on my plate at dinner last night gave away the fact that I actually do care what people think about me. 

I Just Can't Forget

I remember the sunshine on my back.

I remember the stars breathing on my lips. 

I remember the roses I layed at her feet and the tears that drowned her mothers shoulder. 

I remember when mama taught me how to pray. 

I remember teaching mama how to love. 

I remember my childhood. It becomes harder and harder to forget when it's constantly whispering in my ears...asking me to come back...just for a little while.

I remember my sisters first heart break. 

I remember her sobs reminding me of the boy who stole my first heart and broke my first kiss. 

I remember feeling helpless. 

I remember my first poem. 

I remember Barbie doll.

I remember people caring...

I remember English sophomore year and I'll never forget Nelson teaching me what it really meant to write. 

I'll always remember wishing I had said thank you sooner.

I remember the boy who told me he loved me, and for the first time in my life I remember not being afraid. 

I remember always being afraid, and now I'm remembering feeling alive. 

I remember the lights, and the words formed on my lips, but you kissed me too soon and I swallowed them with the blue Gatorade I stole out of your fridge.

I remember your mom yelling your curfew at us as we drove towards the mountains and I remember loving you like it was yesterday. 

I remember loving you today, and I think I could remember loving you for a long time after this. 

Kenzie

(Daveni)