everything, everyday (everywhere 2)

Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night

from the nightmares that you cause

and I don’t know how to shake the fright

when everything about us is put on pause

as the real world turns back into dreams

all I see is your handsome face

your eyes have this boyish gleam

and I long to feel your embrace

I wish that you would hold my hand

and rock me into a dance

this is becoming a little more than I can stand

mostly because you never gave me a chance

there's so much i wish i could say

but the silence keeps growing everyday

i want to scream, i want to shout

what i really want is to kick you out

there has got to be something i can do

because there is nothing left of me and you

everywhere

she got over you a while ago; it's hard to believe, but true
now you keep coming back around just hoping her love for you grew
the hardest part of letting go, was thinking you never cared
and maybe she did get a bit carried away when she got lost in her thoughts and stared
but who were you to judge that innocent little girl following her heart
after all, you knew you really liked her from the very start
you let everything get in the way, which may have ruined it all
and here you are saying that you could finally be ready to fall
you show up everywhere she is, even when you're not actually around
but she kind of thinks she's crazy, so she doesn't make a sound
you're in the haunting dreams that come about when she is fast asleep
and in the memories passing her by, really cutting in deep
however there are those times in reality when you do show your face
now don't get too high on your horse, but you can still make her heart race
it must be those undefinable, inescapable blue eyes
because it certainly has nothing to do with all the lies
the saddest part is, she'd run right back if you would ask
but at this point for you, that would be too big of a task
so here she, not looking back in the knowledge that you aren't there
and in the meantime your presence still follows her everywhere

be here: a response

it's the warmth in the cold
even when these feelings get too old
if he could actually see the scars that she hides
would he want to stay by her side? 

is it all the same?
has it all been done before?

just to simply be here
to be safe without the fear
the walls aren't just of this house
they're everywhere in kerosene doused
she swears that she's made with a heart that won't break 
everything could be dead but she'd still believe

he whispers "it's not alright to be what you've become
these events do not have to be your final sum
i've tried to be quiet, but this heart is on fire
because it's you that i admire
and i want you to be here
i want you to be here
i want you to be here
i want you to be here"
 
and so she'll wait for these six simple words
because they're ones she's never heard

 


 

"she was born with the gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad."

     A little over seventeen years ago, in a small British hospital, a young woman gave birth to a baby girl. The little girl grew up all over the place, moving from England, to Kansas, then Illinois, South Carolina, Ohio, and eventually North Carolina. Along the way she experienced things like busting her head open, meeting Jesus, starting school, braking her arm, transferring three times in one school year, adopting a kitten, receiving the lead in a play, befriending an enemy, growing up without a dad, playing soccer, finding out hard work pays off, and many other things. She learned very quickly to take the good with the bad and to accept nothing less than her very best.
     My name is Kayla, and I am that little girl...or at least an older version of her. 

     It seems as if I am constantly writing, so I decided to try this blogging thing out. Please do not mind my excessive overuse of metaphors, puns, hyperboles, and other types of figurative language, I do often get a little carried away. I am somewhat of a perfectionist, and have at times had OCD tendencies. I am borderline obsessed with mangoes, so you will probably get tired of reading about my superfluous, but vehement love for them. Carolina blue is my favorite color; yellow is also delightful. Despite the stereotypical teenage disgust of school, I actually do not mind it all that much. My brain thrives off of learning new things. Soccer has been a way of life since before I started kindergarten. I quite enjoy classical things such as canopy beds, sailboats, peter pan collars, and feather pens. Jesus is my savior and my best friend.

     Anything else you need to know about me, I am sure if you read long enough you will find out. However, if you are impatient, you can just ask. I promise, I do not bite.