K A R I S•

the light of my eyes

my princess, my diamond

smiling at me

with the softest smile

John Banting, The 100th Lie, from: 12 Blueprints, 1931

I love being horribly straightforward.

What could possibly go wrong? Violence, affection, or indifference. Those were the outcomes I had prepared for.

Not this.

Tears perched precariously beneath her smiling eyes.

A dangerous combination.

All I said was “bye.” Not even a “goodbye.”

So I did what I do best when things become unbearable—I joked. She laughed, but the tears didn't stop. The contrast between her laughter and tears puzzled me, making the moment feel even heavier as if her emotions were resisting my attempts to lighten the mood.

My jokes usually survive these situations.

Tonight, they died young.

I glanced sideways, silently begging the universe for assistance.

Nothing.

Then suddenly, arms around me.

Her face pressed firmly against my chest. Warm tears seeped through my t-shirt, deliberate and slow, as if intending to linger forever. I held her because nothing wiser remained.

Over her shoulder, I found him.

Smirking.

That bastard.

He could have rescued me or broken the tension but watched as I drowned, enjoying a front-row seat to tragedy.

She eventually let go, but not completely.

Her fingers hovered at my sleeve a moment too long.

“You should go,” she whispered.

I nodded immediately, like an idiot.

My friend stared at me with visible disappointment.

As she walked away, her voice reached me one last time. “You joke too much when you’re scared.”

It was only after she disappeared from sight that I realized—

She had not cried because I was leaving.

She cried because I let her.

The creek behind the grocery store
keeps swallowing the same moon.

I saw it last night,
floating in pieces between beer cans
and wet leaves,
like someone trying to mail a silver letter
without an address.

You were asleep with one hand
inside your shirt,
like you were holding your own heart still.

The refrigerator hummed,
a little animal prayer.

Outside,
the trees bent down to listen to the highway,
all those cars dragging their bright loneliness
west.

Sometimes I think love is just noticing
the way a spider repairs its web
after rain,
without asking why it broke.

This morning,
your hair smelled like cold air
and woodsmoke.

I wanted to tell you
the earth is trying so hard
to be forgiven,
but instead I asked
if you wanted coffee.

And you said, “Only if we drink it slowly.”

You ever have days,
Where you wish you weren’t you?
And you thought to yourself,
“If not me, then who?”

I could be anyone,
Maybe even you.
And you could be me,
But you, I am not,
As you can see.

So I will be me,
And you will be you,
And we’ll just have to live
Like people who are themselves do.

- S.A. McCarthy // 01.11.2023

I’ll miss you forever

because you are a part of me

that exist only in my memory.

Forever burned into my mind,

I’ll tell our stories

until the end of my time.

The weekend nights

that felt like fortnights,

the endless garage parties

in roller skates, under disco lights.

Tv dinners by candlelight,

Playing school all night,

never wanting to go home,

spending all day outside.

We went on trips to the beach

and watched the mountain meet the sky,

We made each other laugh

We made each other cry.

We loved each other before

We ever knew we’d someday say goodbye.

Before broken promises-

Nights in the Lavender Fields of Valensole, France