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  Jul 2018 Tsunami
mk
dear boyfriend,
sorry for calling you my boyfriend, i'm just tired of calling you my ex, the ex, the one that broke my heart, the one that got away. so for now, for today, dear boyfriend,
i've been sorting through our memories and i found the very first necklace you gave to me. i haven't worn it yet, but it still shines. i thought you'd be interested to know that the shirt you gave me still faintly smells of you (or maybe that's in my head). i'm feeling really nauseous today and i think its because i read the letters you wrote to me and your handwriting is strange and so familiar. how your letters capitalize mid-sentence, i never quite understood. everytime i see it, i think of how your mother taught you her whole life and imagine you sitting with her and learning to read. did your mother teach you to love? mine certainly didn't. my father taught me to run, though. he taught me to run and run and run and never to look back. i'm still struggling with the second part. he taught me to never stop moving because your past is out to get you. i've been running ever since. my feet hurt and i wish you were here to hold me. but i guess love needs to take a breath, love needs a second, love needs you to freeze for a moment in time. but i never stopped running. i never stop. have you been stopping? freezing in your tracks when the memories hit you like a brick? does your heart clench in desire the way mine does? sometimes it feels like i'm running with my eyes closed and i've gotten my hair caught in spider webs. ugh, i've always hated spiders. i'm not afraid of them, but i don't enjoy their presence. i always liked the idea of having you **** them for me but honestly i think you were more freaked out by them than i was. which is kinda cute in and of itself. you were different, i mean, are different. i wonder how much has changed. i wonder how little has changed. i wonder if you're still waiting for the day the sun sets in the east. i wonder if you're still waiting for me.


love,
your (ex?) girlfriend
(and forever soulmate).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27O7f2lBZqg
  Jul 2018 Tsunami
Madisen Kuhn
one day
it will be easy to breathe
my lungs will inhale flowers
and honey
it will be second nature
like riding a bicycle
like tying a shoe
like swallowing a pill
and i will hold on
tightly and
with shaking hands
until then
feeling very overwhelmed lately. trying to hold onto the hope that it will not always feel this way. i will find my peace.
Tsunami Jul 2018
257 days.
For the first time,
I don't want to shower him off my skin.

No need to scrub;
Your lips leaving delicate traces,
Your hands entangled in my hair,

No need to rinse
Feeling you,
Sending shocks down my spine
Fingers brushing against skin
Electric impulses

No need to wash the memories of;
Bodies intwined
Kissing shoulders and sternums
(whatever has been left exposed)
this doesnt make sense
Tsunami Jun 2018
I have spent eternity searching for the red string that ties us
Finger to finger,
Atom to atom.
Deeper than Mariana's trench
Higher than the atmosphere

Our love was something they told stories of
Too young to understand what heartbreak could ever be.
Made songs about the yearning we felt for one another
It was a fairytale.
A bedtime story.

My dad used to tell me
About dinosaurs and fables and kingdoms
All stuff that I left once I fell asleep
but
I still don't know if I dreamt our fate up
if we ever existed;
in the same vicinity ,
in the same lifetime,
in the same time frame.

Did i imagine the affection you reciprocated?
Or was what my father taught me true?
Getting too close would have it's consequences
He, the sun
I, foolish Icarus
Plunging head first into the sea
no lifeboat in sight.
i miss it
Tsunami Apr 2018
6 weeks
and I still want to wash my body
In bleach.
Go over each inch,
With a bristle brush.
Watch my skin bleed.
Because no matter what I do
I can not get the taste of him
Out of my mouth,
Get rid of feeling
Him
Inside me.

Fingers touching my throat
My lips on his neck
I can't get rid of it.

Fifty one days
My soul is still too soft
Too soluble
For his liking.
My liquid gold
Can not fill the cracks in his soul
The jagged edges of his ribs.

Instead it slides down his body
My tongue follows
drip
     drip
          drip
We cool on uneven stones
slowly i get better but heres something
Tsunami Apr 2018
what my ancestors gave me

(the curves of my body
the curls in my hair
the swell of my *******
the wetness between my legs)

was not meant to be colonized.
stop them from eating me alive
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