She could never find a way,

Changing is to start again,

Darkness reasoning with her light.

She imagines.

Schemes.

Patience considered all at once yet she makes pieces out of notes and memories he wrote, you wrote. Pieces on the ground and believe her when she says she no longer needs you.

You

From then on a year shall pass and scars visibly ahead, you may spot the shade she only carries, into a cafe. She sits down, and she stares at this wall you can’t glance at,

Since you are in fact looking in.

You station yourself and breathe, begin to figure out every first to last memories you have with her. She still connected to this wall and you still seal this focus on her.

You notice you’ve been staring for quite some time at someone you gave up on, funny how things work.

She still stares at this wall with no motion, no emotion, her book has gone dry, new faces emerge as the past ones recreate other scenes.

It seems you’re in awe, in fact you are, why?

What’s so interesting about looking at a girl who is not the same person as she use to be. Someone who gave her very most to you and you who gave her your very best goodbye to end everything. Someone who knows what you don’t. Someone with no interest in meeting, just relaxed in a cafe staring at this god damn wall, and you still stare, but not stationed, but not at the point where you first began to silently reflect with her, but in the middle of the street, laid out flat. You didn’t know you were moving forward huh? I myself wonder why you were moving forward. It wasn’t as if reality was going to stop, give you guys a minute, and give you a second to explain and live happily ever after. She finally disconnects and looks over and respects you enough to stare at you, while you’re flooded in blood.

You’ve been hit by a truck.

“Hope you grasp that you’re dead now”.

She mouths those words directly at you.

Directly at him

Now you know

(Darkness)

1...............

2...............

3...............

“Small caramel macchiato!” Barista yells.“

“A small caramel macchiato!” Barista yells again.

Random stranger taps her shoulder.

“Excuse me ma’am, isn’t that your drink he’s calling?”

She turns.

“Huh, yeah, that’s mine, sorry I was just daydreaming.” She follows up says.....

“_________________”

I have two friends in this place,

and although the scowl on my face

says otherwise, I love them with all my heart.

I'm an angry, bitter man these days,

and while I think of ways

to show affection,

the best thing to do is to tell them

I love you, girls.

Each time I say it, I'm scared shitless

that it'll be the last time

I look upon their kind faces.

Each time I say it, I don't know

if I'll wake up tomorrow to tell them

or keep myself from making a rash decision

that might end my journey sooner than expected.

It is with this same fear that I bid you kind people, my friends, goodbye for now. I don't think sharing my writing with you all is what's best for me in the current moment. I love each and every one of you. Your kind words have helped me through some rough times and I couldn't ask for more from strangers over the internet.

For those that might find my writing in the future, whether I'm still on here typing away or long dead, I hope that you find something of value in my writing. If not, that's okay too. The words of an angsty college kid might not mean much to some of you.

Finally, for you whose mind might stray one day and think back to me, I hope you find what you're looking for. Know that wherever I am, alive and well or stepping through the gates of hell, I will always love you.

Goodbye for now, my friends. I'll see you all on the other side of time.

- Kevvo

I think it’s telling that the guy

who beats the shit out of himself

both mentally and physically,

the guy who used to be so happy,

the guy who’s now filled with

anger and negativity,

the guy who only wanted someone

reliable and stable in his life,

is considered unstable himself.

My existence is worth nothing.

I’m trying so fucking hard to focus,

to concentrate and make something of myself

rather than tear down what I’ve already worked for.

I’m trying so fucking hard, lady.

Put yourself in my shoes right now.

You came directly from the dirt.

Your father barely raised you,

and when he did, it was usually with

anger or a belt.

You move around the same city

six or seven times because payments are tough.

Mom’s car gets repossessed and it turns out

Maricela may or may not beat cancer.

You sell your body to older men

because you need gas money and

you gotta make repairs on the car.

I had someone who loved me before.

I made a mistake that I’ll have to live with

in letting her go.

I just thought, naively, that

you could be there.

That we could raise each other up and

reach new heights - together.

I’m trying Kayla. The ground underneath me

is shaking and crumbling.

I know I can get through this.

It’s a mindset.

I miss you.

I still love you.

#poetry

It’s hard to hear your laughter

across the hall, where I used to laugh too.

Don’t get me wrong, we still do

have a decent laugh every now and then.

It’s not what it used to be.

I’m not what I used to be.

I know you’re trying to make me feel okay.

I appreciate it. I’m fragile these days.

I almost broke my hand

on all sorts of furniture today;

it was a little too swollen for my taste

and surprisingly hurt more than I expected.

Tom came in while I was on the floor sobbing,

after I’d make a ruckus with the furniture

and with my belt.

The man just wanted to play some Halo.

He’s worried. I told him not today, man

and he texted me not long after,

saying I know where the bruises come from.

You ever just feel so fragile that you

need the love of someone’s arms

to hold you together, to keep you from falling apart,

to tell you it’s okay…

but it’s not just anyone’s arms that’ll do, no-

it’s their loving arms… your loving arms.

I know you’re not coming back to

help me hold myself together.

It’s just me. It’s just me trying to

hold together the pieces of me.

It’s like picking up sand,

shit’s just falling through the cracks

and all I’m left with is

something that kind of looks and acts like me.

I’ll try not to get my hopes up,

but come visit sometime, please.

#poetry

I’m still sorry about the other night.

I saw what I did to you the next morning;

you couldn’t even look me in the eyes,

your voice too small for such a strong woman.

There’s no denying how I truly feel, you know I’m a decent actor, but don’t let my grief hold you back. I know I say this too often, and part of me doesn’t know if I believe it anymore, but try to forget about me and my pain. I genuinely do want to see you happy, and if that means I’m not in the picture then so be it. You might have taken my heart and ground it into a fine powder, but what I detest the most about this is seeing my sadness affect you. Maybe it’s best for me to keep my distance as much as possible, but you’re like gravity. I can’t help but be near you, and I’m sorry for that.

I do my best to keep my reality hidden from you, but it seems that a drunk Me let his emotions get the best of him. In truth, I don’t want to sit here and slowly wither away. I’ve found it’s pretty easy to do that without some sunshine in my life, but I can’t always depend on you to be by my side, if at all. In every letter I write to you I often wonder if it will be my last. As much as I wish that these were my last few days on Earth, I’m sadly cursed with youth, meaning I will without a doubt continue to write to you.

I can say that in this moment there lies a small piece of me that resents you for what you did to me. You ruined me. Just know that I’ll grow out of this. If you’re reading this, I don’t hate you. I love you. Even though you don’t say it back anymore, I fucking love you. Hopefully by the time you’re ready, I will be too. I want to make this work with every fiber of my being. If you decide to truly leave me in the dust, I understand. The world will turn, and I will still be here withering away. Don’t feel bad. That’s just how things have to be.

I love you.

#poetry #prose

You deserve to hang your head,

for having the courage to

tell her how you actually feel.

You deserve to suffer

for spewing dumb shit all over pages,

making a mess of your mind.

She doesn’t give a shit anymore.

You’re an old wounded dog to her,

pitiful and pathetic,

begging to be put down.

Kayla, I’m a dumbass.

Please put me down.

As bad as things can get,

you always seem to make them better.

The more pain I seem to forget,

the more I seem to experience.

Defined differently from

person to person,

pain is subjective.

Right now what pains me the most

is you, or rather the lack of...

You.

I just hold hope in whatever’s left of my heart;

I hope that you’ll come back home

that we can make it work

that you still love me

There are few things I still have in this world

that still give me a reason to continue fighting.

This weight is getting quite literally and poetically

Unbearable.

I do not yet know if I’m strong enough for this weight,

but should I either prevail or end my journey here,

just know that I have always loved you,

and I always will, Sunshine.

#poetry

I’m holding up

just barely,

but I’m holding up regardless.

I like writing to you here,

even though you’ll likely

never read these lonely words.

Maybe I’ll write enough

to fill pages upon pages

with lonely enough words,

and maybe one day I’ll send you some.

I understand why it’s hard to be around me.

I get it.

This negativity is killing me.

You told me today that I was going places.

I just wish you’d come with me, sunshine.

#poetry

I don’t know what I did to deserve this pain.

To quote some of the heartbreak songs I’ve been listening to,

Without you I’ll be miserable at best.

Things made sense when you were here.

More often than not things are a garbled mess.

My head feels like TV static.

With each passing day I grow more and more

convinced that this existence is merely a cruel

Punishment.

As I write this I am both physically and emotionally

Broken.

I’ll be fine, love.

I just wish I could hold you in my arms one more time,

Kiss you one more time,

Hold your hand one more time.

I have such a passion for you.

I miss you greatly, my dear.

Maybe this will be my last letter to you.

I have no idea.

I can only sit here and hope that the sun will rise again.

#poetry

Don’t falter,

Don’t forget,

I fell backwards. Looked up, confused.

Horizons don’t message me.

If it did, the brink of expansion would let me want everything.

Excuse me?

What could that possibly mean?

Let no one explain.

*cough*

From that time I head outside by myself and explored the horizons, waiting to be explored, I knew something that no one else did. At the moment I agree with you. Cause mentally I believe I’m a bit impaired to figure things out on my own. As usual. But the case that was, and the case that is, which is now, is totally different. I seek much more control than power and trust than affection. Consistently begging for my wishes to come true, just to respect myself to get it done. And I’ve failed to do so. I’d failed. Yet I neglect my side of approval. In reality, I’m never truly relaxed about myself and the state of tension present at home. There’s no room for more scars and bruises and if there is, I would never let it happen. Freedom for ourselves is misunderstood and people keep misguiding us. Who do you listen to if no one listens? Just runs track with well put together words reeling in someone. Who do you trust? Would you trust me right now? When I said I know something that no one else knows? And If I said it today or then? The horizons had no affection but you do.

I do.

I trust.

I barely listen but I understand now.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed it then. Been really hypocritical about no one giving their absolute attention for once. And there I was.

There in horizon.

Knowing nothing.