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Rebecca Karlous

To the boy who stole my first kiss,


I look into your heart and I see honey,

So sweet upon my skin.

As the sun descends into the horizon and the shadows in the twilight awaken,

Daylight bleeds into dusk

I look into your eyes gazing deep into mine and I feel your love;

It becomes the blanket that shelters my soul from the darkness of the night.

woman holding a neon red heart
Photo by Designecologist from Pexels

When my tears fall, you gently wipe them away with the tip of your thumb 

You plant a soft kiss upon my rosy cheek

Like a bandage to cover the scars


It keeps the blood from stretching out towards the surface.


For a moment,

I am healed.

For a moment,

I forget what it’s like to be afraid of the world

And for once,

As I gaze upon the pale stars draped in the weary mist of the navy sky,

They do not swallow me whole,

They become the brilliant gold candlelight I never noticed before

You and they

Become the path I never knew could exist.

man and woman on bikes at sunset
Everton Vila

To the boy who stole my first kiss,


As I listen to your words instead of your touch,

The candlelight I thought I saw begins to dim a dampened shade of caramel

The melancholic fog of the black velvet sky swallows my peace in one gulp

The band aid is carelessly torn, 

Leaving nothing but blood to replace my tears.

The blanket is suddenly stripped off upon my shivering shoulders,  

Only to notice it was stained the deepest shade of ruby from the passion escaping my aching chest.

woman leaning on door looking out onto the city
Photo by Kinga Cichewicz from Unsplash

To the boy who stole my first kiss,


As reality replaces my fanciful fog 

And my vision is restored

I come to realize, 

You are not the you I thought existed.

You are not the sun 

You are not the darkness


You are the mirror that sits in front of me,

You are the reflection I never knew I sculpted

For only I have the power to create my own sorrows

For only I can color the sun the brightest shade of yellow and pour its warmth into my glass heart.

Whether it be a fictional escape to an alternate reality or an emotional liberation amid the pages of my journal, writing has always been a light in the midst of my darkness.
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