Her eyes, the same as my favorite cup of coffee.
Or was it the ***** mud I'd always trip into on a rainy day?
Her heart, the summer flowers, the winter snow.
But maybe it was the painful chill of the winter in New York.
Her voice, like whispers, so gentle so kind.
Or was it that of an angry lover, that of a lover.
But her hands, her spine, her neck.
Oh! What about her long legs shaded to the color of caramel.
Where'd they go?
Her angelic body. Is it far away from us?
Sometimes I swear I could hear her calling underneath my bedroom floor.
I guess she's made it back to hell again.

k.y

meaningless words sang by a pretty voice
won't do much once you stop hearing
'cause you've realized you're not feeling.

and that shot of whisky feels better than being alone
'cause you'll take a burning sensation over the common cold
that rests in her heart, and rings in your head.

and the knife you keep close to your pillow to ****
the bad dreams away, but all you see is her face
and your blade it doesn't cut as hard as her words when they,

slice through your throat and... you still feel her fingers gripping
and they don't run down your broken little spine like they used to
no.

now they just linger in the depths of your soul,
her lips breaking your bones over, and over
just like before, once and for all.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

Nothing has ever felt the way you do.
Your skin, your smile, the loss of color in your
cheeks, the redness around those beautiful,
dark lashes after you've cried.  
The way you make my mind drop all of its
useless content at the sight of your eyes.
The perfect beat of your heart when I lay my head on your chest, your scent.
Your limp skinny fingers, they're more than just flesh,
and bones. They're more than just you, and us.
Your mind and the way it works.
Your lips, your back, your legs, your soul.
I'm so in love with it all.


When I hold you, I feel as if I am lost in a dream,
Nothing feels more unrealistic than you.
Nothing feels worse than the pain, the worry,
the sadness that crawls slow and horrifically,
into my mind, my body, my soul when you hurt.
I wish I could carry it all away from you.


You are the last rose petal, and the saddest sun set.
And goodbyes with you, and 'see you laters'
are more than just phrases to me.
They're gashes, they're ghosts, they are leeches
that **** out your blood, and fire that burns.
And yes, it pains me to watch you go.
'Cause each step, and each mile you take, my heart
goes with you.
And your soul is more than just another metaphor.
Like all of them have been before.
Because nothing can ever, has ever, will ever
compare to you.

k.y


© 2015 karina y

No one in the world could ever compare to her eyes,
they were green and brown and deceiving.
She'd stand tall in her confident frame and smile.
Oh her smile, there was nothing more beautiful and deadly.
Everything she did had a purpose
none of which came from the kindness of her heart.
She loved so hard that was her plan,
love hard **** harder.

One word and the room stops,
She takes you by the neck and slowly
gently squeezes all the air out of you.
And you have no choice but to love every second of it.
If you're lucky, she'll love you,
If you were luckier, she wouldn't.
You'd be left with agonizing thoughts of why she never did
but at least, you'd be saved from the pain of knowing why she did.

k.y

Quiet little girl
The monsters aren't gone.
They're watching through the windows,
They're looking through the stars.
And all your little toys they dance
Like ribbons in the sky.
So dark, piercing like holes in your
Skinny little bones, oozing pores,
You're 3, 2, 1 you don't know how to breathe
These shards of glass they've been slowly
Piling up, and you can't pick them up,
Not with your gritty eyes or acid rinsed bones.
Because you're still scared of the monsters
That you keep seeing under your bed.
But little girl did you forget,
That there are mirrors under there.

k.y
2016