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kyla marie Nov 2023
Grief always finds a way to hit you the hardest when you least expect it.

It's been over a year and a half, and I can push by and smile even on days when my thoughts resort back to you when I'm alone in my car at 7:30 on a winding country road.

but unexpectedly, scrolling through Facebook, stumbling upon a picture your mom posted

you, sitting out to dinner with your siblings, big smile, eyes twinkling (how could someone so full of life decide to end it all)

can send me into a spiral

now sitting at my kitchen island, turning into a blubbering mess, trying to console myself

telling myself that you're watching down on me telling me that you don't like seeing me so upset.
kyla marie Jun 2023
Everyone asked me what I wanted for my birthday this year, and I didn’t really have an answer. I’ve felt somewhat numb this week.

After the clock struck midnight, and it was my 24th year on this earth, it was made very clear to me what I want for my birthday.

I want things to go back to how they were,
dumb teenagers in love with each other, holding on maybe just a little too tight.

I want to lose track of time with you in your bed, listening to songs that seemed so relevant when pouring our hearts out to each other.

We ended things and moved on with our lives in very separate directions, but we always stayed connected. I think we were both secretly rooting for our reconnection, someday, when the timing was “right”.

And no matter how far apart we had grown, there was always unexpected reminders of you everywhere. We kept in touch. The depth of our love created this ongoing tension, always tethered.

I talked to your mom a few days ago, on the anniversary of your death. She’s one of the only people that I think truly understands the complexity of my pain.

I never got closure from any of this. The only thing I’m left with is the realization that I’ll never get a “happy birthday” from you ever again.

Maybe I’m selfish, but I think it’s okay to be selfish on your birthday. and my only wish is that you were still here. that you didn’t take your life. that somehow you’re still out there thinking about me when I’m thinking about you, like how it always was, but will never be again.

The only thing that I can do is listen to our songs, and talk to the moon. I would do anything for you to be able to listen.
kyla marie Sep 2022
love looks different now
it is overgrown
and tiny goodbye kisses enough to save a singular feeling of necessity but lacking the passion I crave so badly

this isn’t what I had imagined
going to bed alone each night
and waking up to goodbyes.

will it be like this forever?
making silly plans for our silly life together
never quite feeling like we’re doing enough

never quite feeling like I’m enough

and feeling guilty because I’ll never get quite enough

there’s not enough intimacy or romantic gestures or cuddles in the gloomy hours to fill me up

my glass is never overflowing
it’s always half empty or shattered on the floor.
kyla marie Sep 2022
I’m faking it just to stay on top
of everything I’ve buried
****** desire

I can’t stay on top of it all like this
it slips out in waves
and when I try to let myself submerge in my emotions

I drown

and sink


deep down

until that morning alarm clock rings.
fueled by burnout, lack of intimacy and passion, and a whole bunch of things I need to talk about in therapy.
kyla marie May 2022
please stay
wrapped in my mind like I knot I cannot untangle

please stay
soft and sweet, running your fingertips down my naked back, making the sounds of the waves with your lips

please stay
close enough, always just within reach for me to fall on when my legs get weak

please stay
connected in my life, through the coincidences and mishaps somehow leading me back to you

please stay







kyla marie Jan 2019
the early bird gets the worm, right?

the early bird inches her way out of her nest in the morning, longing to stay snuggled up next to her lover.

the early bird leaves early so she can afford the rent on her nest that is falling apart.
the early bird goes to work and gets an early start on her day, just to come back home to an empty nest and sleep for three more hours.

the early bird takes long and scolding hot baths to ease her aching joints and to participate in some “self care”, even though it never really works.
the early bird stares at herself in the reflection of the faucet and dissociates.

the early bird takes some sleeping pills and tries to fall asleep at a reasonable time, so she can be an early riser the next day, too.
the early bird tosses and turns.

the early bird thinks about the dishes that are not  done.

the clothes are not washed.

lunch isn’t made for tomorrow.

the early bird has three tests this week in college and hasn’t studied for a single one.

the early bird hasn’t had *** in a week.

the early bird feels unnoticed.

the early bird feels like she is not enough.

the early bird feels like she will never be enough.
this is the first poem I have been compelled to write after about 5 years of not writing.
I wrote this in my bathtub.
kyla marie Dec 2015
pins start to tingle the edges of my fingertips
whispering to me
advising me to give in
the urge is stronger than me

all of these things i have learned to be dependent on in the past year

none of them have been my home

I had fallen in love with the one self destructive home I had

and he left
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