the air outside was cold
the air inside lingered with the sweet smell of sweat and raw skin
the bed was consumed and the sheets were tossed
it's 3am and although it seems that time stands still when they're together, the snow still falls and the wind whispers secrets like he whispers in her ear 'i love you'
it's tomorrow but it still feels like the day she knew she loved him
it's 6am and he rolls over to see her bare back
fingertips to skin, lips to skin
he knows she loves when he kisses the back of her neck and runs his fingers down her body, top to bottom
naked but not vulnerable
and although so simple, she's aroused and he's invigorated and they're both in love

the story always starts and ends with
the same exact thing: barriers.

the welcoming mat wasn't always
so unwelcoming. the public used to
walk into the doors of your soul,
peer in and examine you, and
if they liked it there, they would
rent out a part of you and you
would be the determining factor
if you should keep them there.

so it wasn't a surprise that maybe
i overstayed past my rent date
and never paid the bills because
i believed maybe, just maybe,
i didn't have to pay because i
was one of your favorite tenants.

now it's like the doorway to your
friendship is behind barriers of
broken trust. i am only invited
into your home as a peace treaty,
never as a favorite tenant.

the fact i have to scale down my
existence, which isn't exactly big
in the first place, to make you
happy infuriates me.

i will cross a ******* ocean, and
with every kick against the angry
waves, i hope you will see with
each tiring kick that i am restless

each time 11:11 hits, i wish for
you to, at least, be friends with
me again, and i still don't
believe in the 11:11 *******.

i just do it anyway hoping someday
i won't have to pay rent or abide by
a ******* peace treaty to live within you.

- kra

this path i wrote
wrought with missed
twists and turns and trip
wires made of pit vipers
camouflaged in ******
stripes the color of bumble
bees that make me sneeze
humbly god help me please
i hear foot steps quietly
lightly on the trail behind me.

r ~ 11/15/14

we lived inside of clocks
we had bodies of heartstrings that will be plucked
a vibrating mass of shifting cogs
and locks built behind bars and red rock walls
and i still don't know you after a couple years
the key is sawed after a few brief fears
reformed the locks

it seems like time is tearing us
apart

i am reaching out to you from a
different dimension, from ten years from
now, or two years ago
and i look like nothing but a ghost

be quiet, and maybe
you will
hear me

without hesitation, i asked everyone
in the room a lighthearted question.
"you know who my best friend is?"
in the same breath, you spit out
"me." what surprised me the most
was that you didn't even think about
the question. it came naturally to you,
like how most things come. at that
moment, my spirit left my body all
in the matter of the seconds between
your reply and my initial reaction.
my soul traveled to the times we were happy,
telling each other secrets and keeping those
promises that we swore under oath. the
dreams we had about each other would
always be good dreams, not nightmares.
as much as i'd like to admit that there is
still something there, that i will be able to
call you my sister & my best friend again,
i had to be honest. i was never honest
to you and that's how i lost you. there
was nothing i could do to take back the
"no" that rolled off my tongue like an
avalanche or a confession to a holy
priest and between me and god, you
are the closest i've gotten to god. the
back burner you left me on has left
third degree burns but isn't dying a
martyr to you the best way to go?
or would you be the one to turn the
other way if i challenged death?

- kra

I’ve been wrestling this since last fall,
peeling my socks off around 2a.m.
and crawling into my nightmares
like a child on her hands and knees.
I’ve tossed my hair in the towel,
examined the scratches on my back
or the bite mark on my shoulder,
juxtaposing them to my flaws,
prying myself open and watching
the little memories flood
from my arteries like insects.
I’ve ******

the energy from my cheeks and given it
to my bones so they may carry
the weight of last year into this year,
the heavy balance between leaving your room
and sitting myself against the frame,
legs to my chest, listening to the unheard voices
telling me to stop loving you.
I’ve cut

you out like bruises on a strawberry,
throwing the bad parts into the black hole
to be grinded and deposited as to be rightfully
grown into something new. But this time,

after we made love on your floor
and counted the stars that left my mouth
every time you touched me like that,

I let myself cling to the light.
I stuffed the empty parts with your remnants,
and latched onto the goodbye kiss.
I’ve been wrestling with you

our bodies so close

since the summer ended and we rejoined
the feelings we spared just to pretend
that we didn’t hear the kettle roar
when we were finished.

I kept on telling him
that his hands felt like
clouds until he found
my lips and told me
they felt like pillows
and tasted of sugar
cubes scrambled
into grapplings of salt.
He held my face
with his hands and
I was sure for minutes
at a time, that I could
read through him, the
forecast from his wet hands.

You talk to me about daisies
like my lungs are made
of their petals and my
eyes of their pollen,
and I am not afraid of
the way you held me-
I am afraid of the way
I kept on slipping back
to you as though your
shoulder was the only
one that I could rest my
head on as though your
chest was the only one
my hands could fall
asleep in, as though your
thighs were the only one
my fingers wanted to hold,
I am not afraid of the way
you held me. I am afraid
of the way your lashes paled
darker against your snow skin,
your eyes golden beneath
your char hair, I am afraid of the
way your hands felt of comfort
and still riddled with excitement,
I am okay. And not. All the same.
You talk to me as though my lungs
are made of daisies, you hold my arm
as though my body is it's stem, I am not
all the same and okay all at. Once.