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Kyra Elise Sep 2014
Every time
I look
into your beautiful eyes
full of joy
and twinkling
with excitement,
it reminds me
how much
I really
truly
love
you.
Kyra Elise Sep 2014
Lost
in a body
she should have had all her life.

Yet
she doesn't
know who she really is.

Dark
is what
she was made of.

An Angel
is who
she began as.

Then
with Lucifer
she fell.

Purple
and black
hair that falls down her back.

Piercing
purple eyes,
the color of African violets.

The Stench
of death
surrounds her.
A poem about a fictional character I recently created.
Kyra Elise Sep 2014
Two lay in bed,
awaiting sleep as they lie in each other's arms.

Quietly speaking,
with their breath and slowing heartbeats.

They have found it,
peace, love, happiness.

When will we get to be them?
~dreaming~
Kyra Elise Sep 2014
As the world falls asleep,
darkness blankets everyone.

The children warm in their beds,
the lovers happily snuggled against each other,
the new parents hoping to get just one night of peace and quiet,
the old woman who is sleeping alone for the first time in 80 years,
the single father who guiltily hires a nanny to watch his son during the day,
the lost man slumped against a building on a cold winter's night,
they are all covered by the same blanket of dark.

Then why have they yet to notice each other?
Kyra Elise Sep 2014
A poem is like a giant jawbreaker.
It has layers which are revealed with time.
Each layer revealing a new color and flavor.
No two are exactly alike.
Every single one has something new to offer.
A new pattern of colors and flavors, or words.
All artistically aligned.
For everyone to enjoy.
Practically endless.
A random thought I had today as I was thinking about writing poetry. Something a little less dark.
Kyra Elise Sep 2014
It was what,
two weeks?

Those two weeks,
trapped,
alone,
lost.

I watched you hang all over her.

I.
Watched.
You.

In the top bunk.

Averted my eyes.

Peeled my emotions away from you.

Took
every.
single.
feeling.
and threw it into the ocean.

We were sailing,
on a sea of endless possibilities,
and yet
you spent that week
with
her.

I slowly settled into the casual numbness day after day.

Focusing on the friends I had made.

Pretending that cute boys were enough to make me feel okay.

Making music,
though inside
all
I
could
sing
were sad melodies
of lost dreams
and a love that
broke me
into thousands,  
of pieces.

And yet,
a year later
here we are.

In love.

Speaking of marriage.

Children.

Eternally happy.

And finally I can breathe.
A piece of the story of my current, wonderful, relationship.
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