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471 · Sep 2021
Kara Michelle Sep 2021
Take me back to the garden,
where the world was ours
and we knew what to do with it—
where every breath was sacrosanct,
and our feet never left hallowed ground.
Where we’d lie beneath the heavens,
counting stars, and I’d watch you
give names to every single one.
I long for those days of dancing,
and dreaming, and never not believing
we were infinite and free;
I ache for a time when we were royal,
and we ruled like we were made to,
like we wanted, because we could.
Intimacy was effortless, then,
embedded in our blood; making love
was some form of worship,
and we were desperately devout.
I would trade all the wisdom
of this world and the next
for one last eve of benighted bliss—
take me back, I implore you.
We’ll do it right this time.
aka kara experiences her first breakup and has some Thoughts About It
449 · Sep 2021
The Sixth Stage of Grief
Kara Michelle Sep 2021
Last December, I decided that either true love existed
somewhere out of my reach, or it didn't exist at all.
In the mirror, my reddened eyes leered back at me,
piercing and livid, searching for the problem or the answer.

Ten minutes later, I was cured by cold pizza
and a hot shower, which made me wonder
if emotions were even real, or if I was always
just some version of hungry or tired.

Some sadistic part of me considered it a victory
to have had my heart broken, because at least that meant
I could feel something. It sounds crazy, but that's love,
and that's losing. It'll make you mad,
and it'll make you angry, too.

Time has a funny way of making a fool of me.
I couldn't tell you if there's a meaning to everything,
or if we're all just trying to make sense of what hurts us,
but I like to say I learned a lot in the six months
of never again:

que será, será, and c'est la vie; the future will surprise you
no matter how much you overthink; true love probably exists,
you just need a nap; and sometimes,
you don't realize what you almost had
until you're glad you didn't get it.
437 · Jan 2021
I Am Learning To Let You Go
Kara Michelle Jan 2021
In sleepless streets, in hotel rooms, we sang the hymns
I'd learned in my childhood. In this way, I felt I'd known you
for a lifetime, or from a dream. I wanted to tell you, then,
but my courage was spent. You were brave
so that I didn't have to be.

How do you tame the wild bird? I would do it for you.
Late at night, I'm practicing my sweet talk. Soon, we'll go to tea
and you'll explain everything: the impossible, the mundane,
and that perfect middle, which is love.
That's what I believe in.

I found relief when you loosened your stranglehold,
and elation when you tightened your grip. Catch and release,
breathe and repeat. I'm cutting my hair to feel new again –
it falls like petals, and he-loves-me-not.
No one can live like that.

I don't hate her, if that's what you're thinking.
I am learning to let you go. In the wood, the wild bird
steals my pen, drinks the ink from it, and takes flight.
In this way, we're just alike:
I have loved you best by leaving.
so long i guess

— The End —