sometimes the walls
peel down    
in tears and metal
as the floodgates
               open wide
as the soul is bared,
raw,
              exposed
softly humming
its release of pride
heartbeats strong
head up high
queenly stance
bearing storms
ready for the battle
taking form
yet holding on tight
to solace's reins
praying to heaven
for grace in the strain
for soon the cry
                  to action
will fall upon this
           tender land
all that exists
washed away in
        a whirlwind
of sand    
in the distance
a lightflare
a whipping up of womb
a time for victory's place
in this tempest monsoon
and within my skin
in the flight of
               my freeze  
my pain opens up
and allows
me
          to
               breathe

“it’s us against the world.”

you used to say it over and over, after dad left, after grandma died, after you got out of your first and second toxic ‘relationships’.
you said it so much that i started to believe it. even as a kid, it took a lot of convincing for me to listen to anything. i was stubborn.

but that became the truth, the consistent, the backbone of whatever we had at the time. i was comfortable with the simplicity of the phrase, and it was a way to remind myself that i always had you.

after i moved out of dad’s for the final time, as i was crying over the birthday cake he had gotten me:

“it’s us against the world.”

after my sister had her son, and moved in, and moved out, and moved in, and moved out:

“it’s us against the world.”

after you started getting suspicious that her husband was abusive and that she was stuck in a toxicity you knew too well:

“it’s us against the world.”

after my brother was sent to prison for defending her:

“it’s us against the world.”

you’re allowed to use that when things happen to us. when it’s truly US against the world.

when it’s YOU against the world, you can’t say that it’s US. when YOU put YOURSELF in this situation, you can’t say that it’s US.

i, as a separate person from you, am trying to feel better. trying to breathe easy. trying to get out of the couple of houses i coexist in more often. trying to eat more. trying to live the most simple life i can.

you say that you are too.

but the difference between us is that i am not putting myself in situations and then dragging you down with me.

you have dug yourself a hole, and every time you fall into it, your immediate reaction is to grab another shovel instead of climbing out, and i’m tired of being the one taking the shovel from you and dragging you out.

when you learn to throw the shovel out, or even better, fill the hole in, i will gladly agree that it is us against the world.

but until then, it’s not us against anything.

it’s you against you, and me waiting for something to be resolved.

The sun is being chased across the small and lonely sky.
he runs perpetually in his place,  and sometimes wonders why
he doesn't pause to take a look at the busy land below.
But if he stops he'll find himself replaced by softer glow.

The moon, seeks him relentlessly, in search of all his light,
for she had never been content with "lighter of the night".
She runs and runs but doesn't succeed, for soon enough she'll find
that if she catches up to him, he will no longer blind.

so they run the race of being out done by the next and being outrun by the rest, but they run still..

he said
you are so gorgeous in the way
you write yourself on paper,
i've never met anyone
to paint with words.
he said
the birds sing your praises
in the early morning sun,
the dew still heavy on blades of grass.
he said
i have never seen such beauty
grace my irises of green,
never known the word perfect
until i told him my name.
he said
you
        are
                my
                        universe.

i wrote you
a letter every day
letters to tell you
just how i feel

written in neat, curved
writing i told you
just how sweet
i thought you were
how you made my heart
glow

letters in which i wrote
with various colors of ink
pouring out my whole being
to you

i wrote you
a letter every day.

i wrote you letters in which
i told you how you made me
bloom.

eventually
i found myself
pressing harder on
the paper
than i had before.

creating tears in them
similar in shape
and size
as the ones
inside of me.

i began to send
letters
with creases
and bumps
and stains
splattered with tears

pouring
from my eyes

as i wrote
the anger
bubbling within me.

my last letter
addressed to you
contained
no words

but was blank.
because
i had none that

could reach
as far

and deep

into the cracks
of my
heart

to describe
just
what you

had left
of me.

A couple of words could make miracle exist and vanish at the same time.
-ks.