Keeping Our Song

Skaja Evens

—Poetry by Skaja Evens, 

SE Virginia

—Artwork Courtesy of

Public Domain

I’M NOT SAYING

Words flash in my mind
Memory fragments of our exchanges
Jokes and deep truths in the dark, and
I miss you so much I can’t breathe

I sense your presence in others
When they say things you’d say
Dispensing your wisdom, like only you could
I smile to myself, fondly remembering

Coming up on ten years of you being gone
And I keep what I can of our last conversations
Reading them sometimes, and hearing everything
In that SoCal, by way of Brooklyn, voice

I keep our song in my heart
Weaving that old black magic
I wish like hell I could hear you
Tell me you love me one more time

 

DISCLOSED DESIRES

 

If I could have anything
I would be with you
Laughing, drinking, loving
Living within the moments that flicker in the candlelight
Existing in the passion in our eyes
Surrendering to desires felt, yet unspoken
Reaching for each other to stoke fires held deep within

 

 

 

 

 

 

SWEETHEART

I treasure when you call me sweetheart
It is my favorite of the endearments
And the way it sounds in your voice
Lends a level of intimacy not found elsewhere
In those moments I feel cherished

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT I’VE LEARNED FROM
LOVING A CAGED DREAMER

They’ll hold you at arm’s length
If they aren’t actively pushing you away
If you’re lucky, you’ll get glimpses of their heart
Before that door slams shut again
Startling the peace they crave

In the circumstances when they do open up
Everything’s filtered behind sarcasm
And unintentional cruelty
While they try in vain to hold everything inside
Because it appears to hurt less

You’ll often become frustrated
Shouting at them when they can’t hear
Feeling helpless to do anything meaningful
Though that passes upon realizing
Listening is a powerful fix on its own

 

 

 

 

 

IT FELT GOOD TO SCREAM

I drove away not long after confessing deep truths
And sharing stories of fucked-up moments
Everything careening towards a threshold moment
Of simultaneously focusing and falling apart

Shuffling through music to find rawness
Songs where everything is left on the stage
Same as how a writer leaves everything on the page

I screamed out the sadness, frustration, anger
Rage and heartbreak for the me who had to live through pain

Deep scarring that’ll never heal
Best I can ever do is learn to carry it
Hope that it will get easier to bear

On a whim, I found myself with fire water
Having a loose plan of shaking things up
Either feel it deeper, or forget for awhile

Take a break from drifting
Frozen ice floes on a river

____________________

Today’s LittleNip:


A DIFFERENT METHOD OF
DRUNK TEXTING
—Skaja Evens

I am all manners of fucked up
And what I want most in this moment
Is to be in your arms
Riding this trip in my mind
Encouraging every piece of dialog between us
Fueling intense passion
And spontaneous release

_____________________

We’re welcoming a new guest to the Kitchen today: Skaja Evens is a writer and artist living in Southeast Virginia. She edits It Takes All Kinds, a litzine published by Mōtus Audāx Press. She’s been published in Spillwords Press, The Dope Fiend Daily, The Rye Whiskey Review, and The Crossroads Lit Magazine. Skaja can often be found listening to music, considering the impossible, and enjoying her cats’ antics. To see the latest issue of It Takes All Kinds (“a press dedicated to sharing voices, even the ones in our heads”), which is open for submissions, go to https://motusaudaxpress.blogspot.com/. Welcome to the Kitchen, Skaja, and don’t be a stranger!

_____________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

Skaja Evens

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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