as I laid down in the dim corner of the nurses office at 15, heating pad clutched and secured on my stomach by all my limbs, I had thought about how badly I wished for this flame to engulf me and everything in my wake. life wasn't the hellscape I had wished for.

That lonely feeling i used to get
at 4 a.m. when the whole world
is silent
when my thoughts screamed loud enough
to fill the void with
anxiety
pain
and reality
ever since i saw your eyes
that feeling hasn't washed over me
4 a.m. is no longer lonely
and the thoughts that used to scream
anxiety
pain
and reality
now scream
you
you
and you.
*-s.k.

we laid on the sand and we laughed as he pondered the cosmos above and I pondered the cosmos streaming through his veins. we talked about the boy he knew and the boy I know and we cried as we wondered why life was so unfair to the ones that gave it the most. we cried at the waves and we stomped on the sand and we cursed at the gods and the stars and the sun and the moon and anything else that we could put the blame of our recklessness on and we wished the worst and the best and the worst for all of the people that existed more than we.
he cried for the boy that lost his voice in the fight and the parts of himself that he lost every night after that. he could barely stand upright. and in a weary, cracking, voice, I looked up at him and asked, “are we ever going to go back to who we were?” and for the first time in all of documented and undocumented history, my collection of stardust, my religion of a boy turned cadaver, my flora and hellfire and fauna didn’t know. so we laid there, hand in hand, head in hell, pondering the cosmos. and we cried some more. we hypothesized as to why there were people starving to death and why humans killed humans in the name of God and why all the while we were sitting here in our little corner of the world crying over everything and everyone that had ever hurt us. but we shrugged it off. tonight was for the stars in his veins and in my eyes and in the sky. tonight was for crying for the boy who lost his voice in the fight. tonight was for mourning the parts of him that he lost every night after that and the parts of myself lost every midnight I watched him cry and lull himself into an ill fated sleep. the world is big. and the sand was so heavy and the water from the atlantic so amorphous and the dark sky so dulcet that I had forgotten about the trials and tribulations. but I snapped back as I heard his voice oscillate with every breath like my own berceuse. secretly, i loved this. but silently I wished for me and him to dissolve into our tears and up into the atmosphere, so the month of june and i would never have to deal with how cruel the world is ever again.

that feeling that washed over me isn't the same.
this time it feels more like rejection.
*s.k.

i can't wait until i have my own apartment in the city with pictures and christmas lights and the feeling that says "i'm finally happy" and i really hope that you are too.
*s.k.

go outside and sing                              
as loud as you can          
go try new things
cry until you've run out of things to cry about
buy dozens of roses for yourself                        
travel to the countryside
stay up until 8 am                                 
change your religion                              
eat all the chocolate                  
drive anywhere and everywhere    
stare at the sky                                         
sleep by the stars                                
book a plane ticket to his city                            
and tell him you love him    
ask him out for coffee                      
or just tell him your name                          
put your feelings into writing
live in the city
love in his city
do what you want    
travel the world
do everything you can 
until you find yourself.   
s.k

i don't know what's crazier
you loving me
or me believing it.
now i know that
this is really happening
and my dear augustus,
this is infinite.
we are so effortlessly
madly
and unconditionally
in love.
*s.k.

i want to be in your city
eating at your favorite restaurants
going to your apartment
and just lying in your bed
bodies and fingers intertwined
listening to your steady heartbeat
and falling in love with you again
i could be anywhere, actually
as long as you're there too.
*-s.k.

my words don't speak volumes
they don't sound as beautiful
they don't feel as lovely or worthy
they aren't nearly as fetching
they can't move me like the wind
they can't make me feel like
i'm lying on a bed of daisies
and i'm inhaled by a cloud of lilac and ecstasy
they never sound as sweet
or pure
or real
they will never make me feel as happy
unless they're about you.

*s.k.

he’s resting his head on my shoulder and I don’t know how to ******* breathe. this motion said so much, I think. cause yeah, I had rested my head on his shoulder hundreds of times and I had burrowed my head into his neck and sat on his lap and slept on his chest. but in this taxi, going down and down 43rd, 42nd, 41st it was different. his eyes were tired. the lights outside illuminated the right side of his face and reminded me that there was a world that existed outside of the backseat of this taxi cab. it felt like time had froze just for the two of us, like no human interaction had ever been as significant as this and the taxi driver, the people on the sidewalks outside, the city of new york, the entire universe had to stop to see this. he was fading in and out of a minute sleep and we equally reeked of the 6 train and pistachio brulee and I was so tired and so dazed that in that moment I told myself that I loved him. no doubt. I didn’t even have to think about it. the love was this low hum that always followed you everywhere. it was the kind that sometimes got annoying and left you wondering where the hell it even came from. but it was also the kind that lulled you to sleep at night and when it needed to, it picked and prodded at you to remind you it was still there. -sk

I kept on saying "when"
when I should have been saying "if"
because you and i both know that the world is not a wish granting factory.

you can call yourself out as much as you want
but you don't see yourself the way i do
when you're humming atlas hands
the way your eyes squint when you smile
how you remind me too much of a certain celebrity
but i know that you're better than he'll ever be
you are the only one that matters.
*s.k

staring at him is like staring at the sun

to both me and the universe he seemed ubiquitous.  i could never tell if that was a good thing.

and just like that my life was a waiting game. everything felt like a precursor to what was supposed to happen. and what was supposed to happen never did.

... and just like that, my words disintegrated into sand, and were thrown relentlessly against the shore by a sea of newer ones.

you make me feel insane but you make me feel wanted and i don't know how that's possible because it's never felt more real
and nobody has ever kept me awake at night
no one has ever had me questioning myself
every second of the day
the way you have
*s.k.

that's the thing about missing you.
the days feel alright and I think I'm ok until I'm alone and then the days start to feel like months and the hours feel like seasons and the minutes feel like years until I'm only one half, incomplete, impecunious in every sense of the word. every second of the day.