Its so much easier searching Google or Pinterest looking for the perfect quote to effortlessly upload to the world.

So much easier letting another speak your words you can't seem to ever find.

So much faster to copy and paste, than forge your own complex emotions onto paper; no take backs, no rough draft.

So much harder to find the words that feed your soul, that truly illustrate your passions, your desires, your wants, your needs, your love.

This poem is for all the quotes that just don't suffice, for all the poems that aren't raw enough to deliver your missive. The ones that barely scratch the surface of your iceburg:

I don't have a problem with love; I love lots of things; I love babies and puppies, thunderstorms and laughing.

I love my job, my coworkers and kids, I love their tiny hands and developing brains, I love their arguments, and their ten second future careers. 

I love ten second future careers.

I love dancing and singing, I love being surrounded by trees that reach the skies and long walks on the beach where there's nothing around for miles.  

I love being uncomfortable, I love learning, I love awkward feelings of vulnerability.

I love being scared, but the kind of scared where I know I'm safe, but I allow my self to forget.

I love allowing myself to forget.

I love cliché and cheesy, I love pick up lines, and jokes that make your stomach hurt from laughter. Don't get me started on vulgarity and cursing; they're my drug of choice.

I love risky conversations and dark secrets, almost as much as I love life stories and scars. Man do I love scars! The narratives, the memories, the reminiscing.

I love reminiscing.

I love silence and I love noise, but mainly the kind of noise that echos joy and content. The noise that feels like home. The noise that eases my nerves like gabapentin never could.

I love meaningless drives and getting lost, or at least trying to, and finding myself in unknown territory that takes my breath away.

I love things that take my breath away.

I love hearing of your love for your son and your daughter, and how because you're a dad, you can french braid.

I love asking random questions from your jar that let me know you sentence by sentence, as we lay on your bed, just us in the room.

I love when it's just us in the room.

I love the feelings I get when I read your book; knowing that your hands have flipped these very pages.

I love staring at you while you strum your guitar and you smile sheepishly as I record you for later. I love watching your hands slightly tremble with everything you touch. 

I love everything you touch.

See, I know what love is. I know how to love, I know what to love, and who. I don't need help to love, or motivation, or reason, or rhyme. 

I'm a lover.

So if I slip, if I fall flat on my face and spew love from my pores, flicker love off my tongue, don't run. Don't be burdened with the fear of breaking my poor heart, or hurting my soul.
us lovers have enough love to balance out the pain, we have enough love to share and hoard all the same. 

So when I call you my lover, or love, or heaven forbid, say I love you, know that's part of my identity, it's my mark on the world, my rendition  on Charles Bukowskis words, "if you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start."

-kyla Goodson

with a capital H (Him)
no, not a god
but a ruler
a masculine power i see all around me
Him
meaning mean
meaning me. ten.
Him, again.
intruding in my face, in my head.
in my bed.
him, many men.
again, again.
my stomach swims
he spreads.
at 25 cant sleep in bed
without a knife, melatonin, and gabapentin
Him.
hypervigilant
when will he begin again?
I look for Him in friends, in men
underneath anyone could be Him
when anger sprouts
and my lover shouts
or when he teases, or grabs, or doubts
i think he's Him, i've lost again
my  radar lacking adequate detection
i panic, i freeze, i run, i scream
i tell him I know he's hiding Him
he lives within
he promises he's all himself
but my world is shadowed in multiple layers
my lover and Him are both there
overlapped like a map with multiple variables
how can i not fear
how can i not carry this
how can i trust my judgments
how can i distrust my judgments
how can i be sure he's not around the corner
inside my lover
waiting for me to rest
to let go, to drop my shoulders, show my soul
so he can grasp and twist and maul
all with a smile
and a later denial
"it wasn't me, maybe it was Him"

So now what

I'm here in Chicago
I filled my day with self care
And it feels like he's distancing himself further
And further away from me
Like he's been coming and moving away from me
All this time.

My therapist says this time, its different
I can feel
That this time
It is different
I'm different.

And it hurts so much to be compared to
The wounds of my past
And my appetite was so finicky tonight
I could never make a decision
So I just didn't
Its getting late now I've got a big day ahead of me tomorrow
My gabapentin ran out
I'm not going to be able to get it until tomorrow night
He had up a picture of us
And its gone again now
He blocked another account
He needs space he says
He needs time he says
He needs to recover he says
And my hope slowly disappears into the night.

It feels so unfair to be compared to where I've been
I look in the mirror
So much different now
I'm already so different now
And I wish so much
I was cuddling you
And you were holding me right back
On the couch you got for us.

I sleep 7 floors above the ground
I stare at my phone
Like it might tell me something different
I need to go to bed sooner
I miss you so much
I hope you miss me too.