I’ve forgotten your poetry.
You were silliness, and jellybeans.
You were my first taste of passion –
Heated, unbridled, amateur passion.
You were – "babe," "toots,"
You were soul.
You were The Eagles, Hotel California,
You were my first notes.
You were secret pain, stolen kisses,
stolen, secret heart.
You were cold air, icy all the time,
ice on my skin but sticky heat between our bodies
when you held me so tightly –
so.
You were deep reds, bold colors,
you were the sound of your watch clicking onto my desk as you took it off so you
could lay beside me where I pretend-slept just so I could feel your body feed mine –
feed my little, secret heart.
You were crazy sheepskin rugs that wore
the footprints of every
battle, every
tear, every
time you stuck your
pins so deeply into me that
I bled onto you.
You were your own hot, naïve tears,
wet on my cheek, burned into my
pink heart.
You were innocent desperation,
I was impossible to navigate
we lost each other in all of our
missed throws and
bad catches
until it was split. infinite.
You were undefinable anger that I
could not harness, you were poisoned
morsels I would not digest.
You were forgotten. An accidental
harbinger of strength.
You were my deepest words.
You are my poetry.
-k. chan

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it's weird that even up to now KC and i still share this sort of cosmic connection. she's in new jersey. it's been more than a year since we had last talked and a few days days ago i stumble upon her LJ and begin to "rediscover" everything that had transpired from the last time we had communication.. the parallel experiences are still there.

it gives you comfort knowing you really aren't alone.