kazilton

[kazilton]

One Last Letter to Eve

The fire whipped its sparks against the wind, fighting to stay alive as the wood dampened from beneath. The longer Anne stayed beside her campsite, the more ice ate at her legs, feeding off of whatever warmth she had left. However long that had been, she couldn’t be sure. The passage of time exists whether Anne pays mind to it or not. Her thoughts had not strayed far from much since she found herself in the snow. Only what she would say to Eve, knowing she was waiting for her on the other side of the world. It’s at all possible they were closer than she had thought, not only had the presence of time long left Anne’s mind, but the recollection of where she might be no longer held much concern. 

Anything of recognition slept beneath a blanket of white. What might have been without the snow was only green in Anne’s memory. In the present, she could only recall what brought her warmth with so little of it left at her disposal. With what she could muster, Anne remembered a notebook and a pencil she had packed before she departed on her journey. 

My dearest Eve,

It is with great dismay that I feel as though I will never write to you again.

It is with something of grief I feel as though you will not read this despite.

Of course, it is of no fault to anyone we cannot cross paths in our lifespans.

Except, perhaps, my own. 

I regret much of how I conducted myself around you.

How I let myself be consumed by childish, girlish daydreams.

How I dreamt of coming home to you in a month similar to this, 

How I envisioned your arms opened wide. 

How I believed your dark hair would fall in my face,

How I knew I would not mind had your deep warm eyes met mine.  

But, oh, what a beautiful dream you had been.

Had that blizzard not met me here,

Had I been given one more day,

Had I–

Had it-

Had I…

The words I long to leave my lips, pressed against yours, escape me now. 

Not without fire, but left without warmth, I am unable to fall into you. 

I draw what I can from the abyss of my mind, 

Within the cavern of my heart,

Where the rest of myself grew around the love I buried for you long ago. 

I can feel it burning, even now, in a world so far from yours. 

It has kept me alive when I sleep where I should wake,

Drifting endlessly through bustling streets, 

Left lifeless without you among them.

How can I see the light anywhere else that is not within your eyes? 

I grasp from within myself a longing, wishing, wanting,

In a land where longing, wishing, wanting provide no shelter from the wind.

My last desperate attempt to hang onto what little life I have left after I let so much of it pass me by.

Let me root here once I rot,

So that you may find yourself amongst my leaves.

Let my branches hold where you grasp,

In the way I could not when we found ourselves near.

Let me stay, and watch you leave,

As I had let myself do wordlessly.

There was much I wish I might have said,

Now buried under ice and snow.

The stinging comes to kiss my fingers,

Enveloping what I might have left

Apart from what the Earth already took.

I know now I have not the time I envisioned in coming to meet you.

If there is any love in this life,

I wish it to come to you.

Mine, it may be not, but let it greet you at your doorstep.

Let you find it curled at your feet,

Staying not only in the cold months but in the warmth in between.

Might you find yourself loving as well,

Given a happiness I had wished I might provide,

But that you may still bask in its sun as I bow out of its way.

I love you.

If there is one phrase I should hope you can hear,

It’s how much I love you.

Or how much I might have loved you,

If I once again found myself near to you.

The Earth grips Her icy claws underneath my skin,

I would wish to stay frozen in time,

Had She promised you to me when She thaws again.

I cannot imagine She would be so kind.

But I could not imagine I would be so cruel,

To hide behind myself until I found the time too late. 

In my last letter,

The one you will never read,

I only beg you to find care and kind in the space I left.

Had I left anything within you at all,

I should hope someday love will fill it once again. 

Might I feed into my own delusions,

As I feed our harsh and starving Earth,

While I know She must eat,

She knows I must love.

I will let her swallow my body whole,

As I once let you swallow me.

Anne let the pen fall beside her. She heard the crunch in the snow, and watched the flakes fly along the wind. Ice to Snow, Snow to Rain, Rain to Oceans, Oceans to Sand, Sand to Dust, Dust to Ashes, Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust.

All must return to the Earth when She brought them to life to begin with. She, The Earth, shifted under the weight of what She had brought on. Anne heard the creak and groan of the plane that brought her here, settling in for the night. Anne took the sign that it might be time for her to do the same. The gaze she cast along the skyline turned itself inward. She let herself fall into a sleep, a rhythmic dreaming and drumming she now had in common with the surrounding wilderness. 

It was neither the Earth’s fault nor her own she now found herself abandoned, but circumstance itself. It had taken her by the hand, led her along the path of her life she might have known to forge herself, had she recognized where her indifference might take her. She fell, one by one, into another’s hands, never thinking she could let go. A revelation that had grasped her all but too late. Any reach she may have mustered before was forged in the absence of ambition. A hand print stained in longing might be the only mark Anne knew she left in her wake. 

She took a breath in to speak, finding only cold could fill her lungs. She wished now she could cry, scream out into the void she would leave empty, knowing she wasted that chance in writing to a love that would never come, had it been there in the first place. She let the oxygen escape from her lungs, longing, wishing, wanting, for it to take her, too.

[kazilton]

space

your eyes are stars i can hold between my hands,

casting a light taking eons to reach earth,

brought down with the gravity of your smile,

with the force of your laugh,

and the attraction of all three together.

you are the space between my lines

when i have nothing else to say.

[kazilton]

dreams

in my dreams we’re still together.

in my dreams we go shopping,

and in my dreams you’re not mad.

in my dreams we go to our friend’s party,

in my dreams we talk,

in my dreams we laugh,

and in my dreams we’re happy.

after my dreams i wake up,

half expecting your head to be on your pillow.

after my dreams i wake up,

and you’re not there to ask ‘what did you dream about’.

because in my dreams we’re still together,

and we’re happy,

and in my dreams it’s not too late.

[kazilton]

don’t forget

wear a hair tie around your wrist,

forget your jacket on my floor and come back for it later.

i’ll hang it up neatly in the back of my closet,

i’ll let it sit for years until you remember.

i’ll keep your bracelet just in case you want it back in another life.

i want to be buried with it so i know someday, somehow, i’ll pass it over.

write a note on my arm,

i’ll get it tattooed in the morning.

spell my name with the chords in your songs,

maybe i’ll hear what you have to say in the lines in between.

just don’t forget me, please.

[kazilton]

february

i got up this morning and i changed my sheets.

it’s warm for a february, but i’ll enjoy it while it lasts.

someday maybe we’ll change our sheets together, and february will feel the way it’s supposed to.

and the world won’t be ending soon because you’re fluffing our pillow.

and i’ll wake up tomorrow, and it’ll smell like us again.

[kazilton]

about you

i think he saw me crying in a train station and he knew.

he knew that every morning i wake up,

and have to remember you’re not there.

that every train i get on,

feels like it might have you in it.

i like to think about how you feel,

when you get on a train to see me.

and i can’t help but wonder if you ever will again.

[kazilton]

about me

i feel her when i’m sober,

and it’s just like i’m 15 again.

i feel her in this song, as i do most.

i feel her when i look at the stars,

and see the constellations point her way.

i feel her on the planes,

i feel her on the morning train,

i feel her when i read her poems,

and remember once they were

about me.

[kazilton]

after you

after you died your room was quiet. 

it always was, but today was different.

your bed was unmade,

like you expected to crawl back into it.

your drink was on your desk,

left for later. 

your curtains were open,

your light was on,

your laundry basket full,

all things you used to take care of

before you went to bed.

the sheets left astray opened themselves to me, seeming to say “after you, welcome in”,

“we miss her too”.

[kazilton]

love fits in a 4x6

we live in the right time even if it doesn’t seem to be that way.

and i can’t believe i’m putting myself through this again, but at least i get to text you and feel a little more okay.

i can’t help but hope that you feel the same. 

especially considering the fact that my love for you fits in a 4x6 frame.

[kazilton]

trees creak in anticipation, while dragonflies buzz to meet you.

the waves follow your path, beckoning you to the island.

was it all just a dream?

an apparition until i got back here?

a vision from these sacred rocks i hold so dear.

glitter and gleam past blue and green, high peak fog dancing above the sea.

familiar faces you’d see again and again,

some carved into mountains untouched by wind and rain.

the warmth of His light and the smell of the beach, what else in this world is beyond my reach?

a burning bush just beyond my sight, forged into rocks by His might.

shadows loom, secrets still untold.

the mysteries He left us are yet to unfold.

why is it here You have buried my soul?

it’s these answers i yearn to hold.

a poem i wrote 4 years ago when i was a sad catholic kid at a summer camp.

[kazilton]

she is more mine than anyone else’s. she is my muse, my heart, and everything i’ve ever loved. without her i never will again. i yearn for a glimpse of her when i look in someone else’s eyes.

[kazilton]

new york

she left new york to uncover a feeling,

bit her tongue to forget the taste of that name.

hoping the right words will give her healing,

knowing they will never see her the same.

what’s wrong with the village?

what’s wrong with the people?

there’re no empty seats left in the steeple, anymore.

her heart’s buried three thousand anyway,

three thousand’s the reason she decided to stay.

all i could tell her,

is that i couldn’t breathe.

all she could tell me,

it wasn’t only me.

that stars in our sky were our only constant,

you said orion makes you think about me.

the sun that we share feels empty and haunted,

the only thing i know we both can see.

i want to forget her, i want to just hold her,

there’s no way to whisper, “i love you”, anymore.

my heart’s buried three thousand anyway,

three thousand’s the reason i decided to stay.

songs filled with words i could never tell you,

lines on a page about what i wish could be.

your name on a screen still makes me smile, too.

do you still know you’re everything to me?

this was a song i wrote a couple years ago, all i need to do now is learn guitar.

[kazilton]

The Most I Could Do

    I’m familiar with intuition. I’m certain in the thoughts that scream themselves in my head, that permeate our consciousness, but never quite reach my lips. I know you can’t help everyone, but I believe you can try. I remember the words, the feeling I got when I knew he was lying. I watched as his family lowered his casket into the ground subsequent to our last conversation just the night before. There is power in the truth left unsaid, and I believe in my gut when it screams for me to listen. Maybe there was nothing I could do, but there’s still faith in the fact that I tried. 

    “She’s worried about you,” my dad told him. 

    “I’m fine,” Luke's voice insisted, slightly more exasperated than the last time we spoke. It seemed that way every time he picked up the phone this year. Although he wasn't great to begin with, we took him in for a while and gave him a job years before. His divorce took quite a toll on him, it was the least we could do. I wasn’t aware of much about the situation, yet I knew something was wrong. 

    Maybe it’s because I’ve been called insightful all my life. In simpler terms, I had a bad feeling about this. That bad feeling tends to lead me to explore, while most people would probably be intelligent and retreat, I tend to be curious and stay. Stubborn could be a more fitting title. Was it the fact that I hadn’t seen him at work in a few weeks? Or possibly the reoccurrence of his name in muttered conversations between my parents? To be quite frank, I’m still unsure. All I recognized was that something was off. It turns out, as per usual, that unsettling feeling in my stomach was right. 

    Luke’s liver was failing him, but he refused to get himself to a hospital. He’d been through similar struggles in the past, what could possibly be different about this time? 

    It was gray the day he died. I awoke with a dull pain in my bones, the same for my chest. I assumed it was because of the rain outside, petrichor from the kitchen’s open window usually makes for a calming atmosphere, but I found this day eerily unsettling. It would take only a few short moments to find out why. Those words I remember so well came at a lumbering pace, and time to a dead stop. The air suddenly still and unmoving, the window left agape was futile. 

    “I have some news,” that’s where it started, the hauntingly familiar tune my lungs liked to sing. Hopefully my words weren’t useless. I didn’t want to feel useless. I don’t like that feeling, it’s cold and unwanting, yet that was the aura that circulated the room that early February morning. I knew he was dead before the rest of the sentence left my dad’s mouth. It was his heart that gave up the fight, and possibly he did too, but I’m proud of myself. Despite everything, I had asked him to help himself. That was the most I could do.

An excerpt from my high school senior year portfolio “Bright”.

[kazilton]

[kazilton]

Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place.

Robert Brault (via resqectable)

[kazilton]

shh they’re reading. x

[kazilton]