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Sep 2015 · 869
faith and lust
kaye Sep 2015
I never believed in a god.

I've never even touched a page of the bible until I saw heaven the day I looked into your eyes. Now I have scars and color on my knees from kneeling on holy ground for too long pretending to beg for forgiveness, pretending to beg for absolution when all I'm begging is for you to come back.

Last year in physics class we talked about the theory of duality. Now I understand why the moment you showed me heaven, my skin anticipated the scorching heat from the fires of hell.The only time I screamed god's name was under white sheets and clenched fists and a tangled mess of limbs, the only time I opened a bible was when I tried to look for salvation someplace other than your arms because it didn't feel right for me to have found everything in you.

I never believed in answered prayers until I tasted the one in your lips. Now the pews are drenched in holy water spilling from my mouth as I try to cleanse away the taste of the demons you left lingering on my lips the day I woke up next to an empty space and cold sheets on my bed. The statue of mother Mary is spilling tears from all the lies she's heard you say, the ones you told me right in front of the altar.

My mouth is dripping red as I try to brush your name away, I'm trying to convince myself that these bleeding gums taste better than you do, trying to forget how your lips looked like lust and sin but tasted like salvation.

Please come back. I think God doesn't listen to false prayers.
kaye Apr 2015
tell me about your first love,
when it was all about soft kisses and rough kisses and sweaty palms.
remember that time when it was all about looking in each other's eyes and promising to never say goodbye,
when you walked it to places to pass the time?
oh god, you watched movies but didn't pay attention to the screen,
all you ever wanted was each other's company
and everything in between.

tell me about the day it all fell apart.
how it ended with not two, but just one broken heart.
tell me how the tears flowed relentlessly,
how your hands were shaking and you kept being on your knees.
tell me about how begging for him to stay never worked out,
how you felt so stupid and ******* it,
how could you live without him now?
where were his sweet words and false promises?
where were his "i love you's" and "there's no one else's"?
all you ever wanted was the only thing he could never give,
you knew it from the start, but **** it,
you never thought he would actually leave.
he sounded so sincere with his rhymes and letters
and handwritten poetry,
but first loves always felt so real til he says,
"i don't love you anymore,
i'm sorry"
Mar 2015 · 626
it started out like this
kaye Mar 2015
i'm tired of reading between the lines.
i'm tired of digging through the dirt with my fingers,
trying to find something that isn't there.

you were never black or white,
and i used to like living in gray
but now it's the color on my walls
and the paint inside of my eyelids
and I'm getting sick of it.

we used to visit art galleries just after the sun sets
because we didn't want to miss the orange light spilling over the clouds and covering everything up.
it was a masterpiece that was always there but is never the same.
but maybe we liked its absence better -- you'll miss it more if it's always gone, right?

despite the paintings and art pieces we breathed in, there was never color in our story.
we were children's coloring books that never got touched, left to gather dust in an uninhabited nursery of broken dreams.
we were unpainted swing sets that no one bothered to start, let alone finish.
we were clay bars that no one wanted to mould.
we were meant for something more,
i told myself over and over again.

now, it's past the usual bed-time and i'm still digging.
this is why my nails are long, you've always wondered about that.
i'm digging our past back up,
i've tried burying them to fool myself there was never anything there.
i know I'm a fool for trying to get them back,
but these are the only places I could see a hint of color.

i'm tired of living in gray.
i'm tired of treating you like a work of art that needs to be figured out.
you're only with me after the sun sets.
where are you in the morning, except inside my head?
i'm starting to think this is not about absence making you miss me anymore.
i'm starting to think you only ever see me as an art gallery --
a place to visit, but never really stay.

are you happy?
it's the middle of the night and i'm screaming in pain --
my fingers hit something hard.
i'm bleeding red.
i look through the dirt, muddy with my tears, and found the thing my fingers scraped on.
hey, tree roots somehow look like veins.
but they don't drip color when you cut them open, right?
i found a bit of red in my nails, now.

i've been searching for a while, but always in the wrong places.
i think i know where to find color now.
i don't even need to dig.
Feb 2015 · 828
here's a tip
kaye Feb 2015
do not fall in love
or you will wake up and find yourself
having ink on your bedsheets
as you try to write their names away.

do not fall in love
or you will end up screaming confessions
to treetops
because at least the trees listen.

do not fall in love
because you'd carve their names on your skin
and your toes will bleed on your broken mirror
and still think it's poetic, anyway.

do not fall in love.
you'll end up wandering the streets
because your home has a first and last name.

do not fall in love
or you will fall
and fall
and fall
and fall
until you realize
those books aren't true.
you neither fly nor hit rock bottom.
you just continue falling.

so please, for the love of god,
i'm begging you.

do not fall in love.


unless it's with me.
Feb 2015 · 948
where is it?
kaye Feb 2015
i've searched for love in all the wrong places.
i've looked for it under your sheets and over your kitchen counter.
i've crawled down your bed and felt the inside of your closets.
i've tried searching for it in flower petals falling to the
ground one by one -- "he loves me, he loves me not".
i've tried digging through the dirt looking for every feeling we ever buried.
i've tried quietly drinking  to see if love was at the bottom of a bottle.
i drank a lot more, just to make sure.
i looked for it in broken mirrors and smashed plates and overused wineglasses
on the dining table where you used to sit.
i've tried looking for it in your eyes that were almost always empty.

i could look in a lot more places and tell you about a lot more.

i haven't found it yet, but one thing's for sure:
i don't know where it is, but I know where it isn't.

love can't be found in you.
Feb 2015 · 2.9k
something about you
kaye Feb 2015
God must've painted the sunset in your eyelids
and the stars in your eyes
he must've made a jungle out of your heart
that everyone keeps getting lost in,
drowned by a forest of wildfires.
he must've tucked sunshine in the corners of your smiles.
he must've patterned the oceans and seas with your words --
i keep drowning in them.
he must've tried to recreate the softness of heaven in your lips.
blackholes may have been named after your eyes --
they keep ******* me in and I can't help but see the birth of stars in their edges.

you are a whole universe of your own,
and I like exploring the corners of it alone.
Jan 2015 · 4.1k
catastrophe
kaye Jan 2015
i heard that the wind
can do as much as
turn skyscrapers into dust and rubble
and whisk away green vegetation
as it surges on unsuspecting cities.

ethan,
my heart is not a city.
and you are not the wind.
don't turn us into a catastrophe.
Jan 2015 · 2.2k
appreciation
kaye Jan 2015
and yet another soul lost the battle
and succumbed
to the cruel kiss of self-destruction.

"she was so pretty"
"he had such nice eyes"

why didn't you say it when they were alive?
then maybe, you could've saved a life.
RIP Leelah Alcorn
Dec 2014 · 3.0k
2am spilled thoughts
kaye Dec 2014
lately, everything's been about you.
i'd see "closed" signs on antique shop windows
and eviction notices on apartment doors
and remember how it felt when you slammed the door on every possibility of us.
i'd see pens and papers and stop myself in the bookstore from throwing them on the ground and screaming "i used to be the one you write about". now i just find spare ones in my room that i can cry onto when no one's around. the ink seeps through my fingertips as i break the plastic case of every pen i lay my hands on and it's supposed to make me feel better but it doesn't. it just reminds me of the ink you injected in my veins and no matter how deep i cut i can't get it the **** out.

you grew something inside of me and i swear they're not flowers because they've been flourishing when i water them with *****.

i'd stare at streetlights and remember that one time you told me you'd  kiss me under every single one of them but here i am brushing my teeth so hard it bleeds every night because the only time i taste your lips now is when i'm dreaming.

and now here i am trying in vain to paint the sunset with the color of your eyes. i didn't want to forget how they lit up when you said "i love you" but maybe it was just a reflection of how bright mine were when you finally said those three words.

well, to be fair, you only told me you loved me. i guess it's my fault i assumed it meant you'd never leave.
Dec 2014 · 1.8k
kleptomaniac
kaye Dec 2014
he walks by me
his scent lingering in the breeze
seeming so innocent--
oh so innocent--
in his faded jeans and white muscle tee.
the soundwaves fills with his voice
as he sings along
to the uncountable stares
prevailing in his presence.

our eyes never waver
as he fades out of our view.
but as we look back
at our unimportant,
insignificant,
unnoticeable selves,
all our chests had were gaping holes;
empty and desolate.
for he had cruelly,
but unintentionally --
out of fleeting impulse --
stolen our hearts.
kaye Dec 2014
BUT IT GOT PUBLISHED PUBLICLY IM SORRY
i'll delete it now
kaye Dec 2014
your eyes are deeper than any poetry i've ever read.
i've tried to write them in six-word poems
but it can never quite capture their depth.
i've tried rhymes
and sonnets
and haikus
but i end up dreaming of them instead.

i'm lying on the roof
looking at the stars in the skies
and wish i were looking
at the ones in your eyes.
Dec 2014 · 1.5k
scars
kaye Dec 2014
her scars may seem too deep for you.
slashes on her wrist,
blue and yellow
bruises on her skin
and under her left eye.

but the deepest scars
are deeper than the skin
under that layer of filth
beneath the blood and bones
lies the most dangerous piece
of humanity
that can be scarred upon.

would you like to see my heart?
Dec 2014 · 6.8k
tuesday
kaye Dec 2014
it was tuesday
when our physics teacher told us
you weren't coming back anymore.
"what?", i said.
i didn't hear him right,
i convinced myself.

they went on talking about the dates
and funerals
and wakes
but i didn't hear a word.

all i heard was the violent beating of my heart
and the rhythmic pounding of my head
and how i never, ever wanted to feel this way again.

and i wondered, if they knew,
that they'd have to bury me soon, too.
wait for me i'm almost there
Dec 2014 · 3.8k
unsaid goodbyes
kaye Dec 2014
she saw the words in your eyes long before you had enough courage to spit it out of your mouth. she was used to goodbyes but she was usually the one who gave it out. now she was on the raw end of the deal and the pain was excruciating -- her heart was pumping so hard her eyes were brimming with tears and when it fell down her mouth she wondered why it tasted salty when it should've tasted like ***** because that's the only liquid she's been taking in ever since you left. she keeps bleeding from her feet because she's been standing on broken glass ever since the day she broke your picture frames and the wineglasses on the kitchen counter and she smashed the mirror right after because it just keeps reminding her how bad of a mess she was and how she couldn't fix it.

the next day she smeared on lipstick and mascara because you liked the natural look and then her phone rang and you met at the cafe across the street where you always had your morning coffee. you were talking and laughing like you wouldn't drop a bomb on her a moment later and you never did. she went home crying and smashing plates again because you left her two weeks ago in your eyes but you still didn't have the courage to say it.
kaye Dec 2014
ever since you left
i've replaced water with *****
it's dripping through my fingers
and is falling to the floor
it's coursing through my veins
still i drink a bit more

the flowers in my stomach
died the same day
i forgot you can't water them
with alcohol, anyway

so here i am still trying to escape
this is it, this is goodbye
i hope this time i forget your name.
i got myself drunk to forget your name but i forgot mine first
Dec 2014 · 915
Poison
kaye Dec 2014
She swallowed love like it was poison, fully aware of what she was doing but then spit it out the moment it reached her throat. She felt its presence like a hardened clump on the back of her mouth, fighting it back with her tongue wrapped with barbed wires but she felt herself bleed long before she could even scratch its surface. Tears started spilling out her eyes as she looked at your brown ones and no matter how hard she tried to explain, she can't put into words how such a muddy color can be so bright -- it could outshine the stars.

The moment her hand enveloped yours she didn't understand how this ******* electric current could be interpreted as romantic. She never liked cliches but she forgot that when you took your clothes off and she ran her hands through your hair and finally thought that maybe, maybe this was something real. She didn't know life outside this box -- she didn't know there was a box until she felt herself becoming so small, shrinking in your presence every single time. It used to be about both of you but now its only about you and she was never one to complain about exploring every inch of your skin with her mouth but this time it was different. The fire in your eyes looked too warm to be comfortable in anymore and the spark you both used to have turned into an inferno that began to burn its way into her veins and that your words cut deeper through her than sharpened knives and your promises were nothing but sugarcoated threats and curses and she knew it would **** her and that this thing everyone fussed about was nothing but poison but ******* it, she'd swallow it if it tasted like you.
Nov 2014 · 949
words
kaye Nov 2014
i never ran out of words.
i'd see the night sky and i could describe it in a hundred ways --
i could say it was the ocean reflecting the twinkling lights above;
or maybe a moonlit path now visible through the waves.

i'd feel the wind brushing my cheek
and write about how it tousled my hair into messy tendrils--
how it plays with the leaves one moment
and the next leaves them astray under warmly-lit streetlamps.

oh i could write for endless hours
about disasters, impossibilities, probabilities
and i never ran out of words.

there are twenty-six letters in the alphabet and they never failed me.

but then i saw you.
Nov 2014 · 3.1k
incomplete evolution
kaye Nov 2014
they say we are all made up of stardust;
an evolved specie from the distant galaxies.

but I think you're a genetic mutation,
an incomplete evolution

for I could still see the stars
reflected on your skin
dancing through your fingertips
and swimming in your eyes.
kaye Nov 2014
i want to smear the sunset with something other than orange light --
maybe i'll paint it with the color of your eyes.
Nov 2014 · 2.7k
honesty is the best poetry
kaye Nov 2014
i've tried making poetry
spinning silk from cobwebs
sitting in the corners of my mind
trying to sew them
into sweaters that smell like you
so i could sleep at night

ever since i met you
i've been swallowing ball point pens
so i could spit out poems
everytime you cut me open.

there's ink in my veins
and i can't get them out
i can't quit this now, it's too late,
i've become addicted to your mouth

i painted my cheeks red;
you painted it black and blue
you turned me into art right?
i don't understand
why they kept telling me to leave you.

you tell me you don't love me,
and i keep saying i don't care.
i've felt it in your kisses
there's never been a spark in the air

you ask me why
and i tell you:
you're my favorite kind of pain.
not to be cliche, but i'd like to die
whispering your name.

my friends say i'm a fool,
"if it's an addiction, then quit"
but honesty is the best poetry,
and i'm getting pretty good at it.

— The End —