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  Feb 2020 kain
Vic
"I guess it hurts most knowing that it never actually hurt. I needed to feel something, and hurt was easiest."
kain Feb 2020
This is an ode to us
Our elbows that brush
When we're walking down the hall
Our feet as we kicked each other
At a football game
Arms interlocked
On a walk through the school yard
And fingers reaching, grasping
Sliding over arms and bodies and sides
Finally intertwined
In the street lit night

This is an ode to our memories
Good and bad
The conversations between classes
When I told you I was suicidal
When you told me you were abused
When I realized that I loved you
Making small talk on a swing set
Knelt down in a library
Snapping under electric bonds
Thinking about you all night long

This is an ode to the things
That stay between you and me
I was the first one
To ever use your name
I waited for you at the stoplight
When you refused to jaywalk
Or run around the other way
We looked across the road
Through drifting car fumes
In our small home town
I remembered your arms
Just a few hours ago
They didn't feel like home
But God, were they close

This is an ode to us
To this teenage love
To the rain that fell
And cleansed the downtown buildings
Washed out the streets
Leaving everything out in the open
All our secrets and mistakes
Silly conversations and inside jokes
And hurt, the things I'll never quite get over
The times you didn't look at me
And the times that you
The times when it was just
You
And me
Alone in our feelings
Your blue eyes locked on mine
Free
  Feb 2020 kain
Corey Jones
this is the compilation of every laugh.
our Sunday walks.
moments spent in cities we explored.
all the paintings we glimpsed together.
meals shared with crooked enjoyable smiles.
tiny slight brushes of our hands searching for one another.
thoughts, brilliant or otherwise.
everything we once were.
everything we were going to be.
this is all that's left of us,
sealed in iconic black lettering.
kain Feb 2020
Some days, I just want to disappear
I wake up with that sinking feeling
Of nothingness, heavy in my chest
And I long to float away
Fall from out of the sky and spend my life
Shattered on the rocks of my own making
I wish I could be unborn
Bury myself beneath the leaves
And find myself unseen
But the forest is a long walk from here
So I drown myself in layers of loathing
Swaddling up my physical form
Until no one dares to look at me
I'm too pitiful, I'm a disgrace
I don't deserve all the staring eyes
I don't want to be recognized
Not anymore, at least
Ngl, I feel a little bit better after writing this. Not much, but a little bit. Nvm, things **** again.
kain Feb 2020
What does it mean
To still be here, living with trees
Tapping at the windows
It's almost like they're asking
What we think we're doing

Waking up on air mattresses
Drinking instant coffee while
Outside, birds will fall
In this twisted dream
A toxic slew of memories

Remember the back of the class
Listening to seventeen covers
Of "Kissing in Cars" and
Going through every last
Tear stained inch of you

Remember the grass beneath my feet
Before you ever knew about me
The school shootings, the rain
Kids crying in the parking lot
Phoning parents, trying not to be afraid

You're the only person I've ever seen
At midnight in an overcrowded kitchen
Leaned against a counter
Like you know where you belong
That night, I saw stars behind your eyes
I don't want to grow up anymore
I don't want you to go.
kain Feb 2020
We are the rise and fall of cities
So carelessly demanded
Sheathed by night
Gilded with stars that lend us
The illusion that our world
Is still whole and beautiful

What a cyclical facade
This seems to be
All faded tones of rose and gold
From our first light
To the fall of the last empire
We are but wounds
If I end up using this, and you, my teacher whose last name starts with a K, are reading this, then yes! I did actually write this. It's inspired by Borges and Rilke (especially his poem "Landscape"; pg. 109 in the book you lent me). This poem actually means something too.
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