Dear Kyle

I don't know what to write anymore.

I've written all your prompts Kyle, I've done every single one.

I've written poems and letters and sonnets and pleas to God I've done it all.

I've written about my friends boyfriend, I've written about sex, I've written about abstract characters from a Russian novel.

I've written a testimony, I've written about the Black Swan, dammit I've written about the guy that makes my bubble tea on the weekends.

I've written about my abusive relationship, about my death anxiety, I've written about just wanting to be in your top 5 Kyle.

I've written about bricks and crayons and love and what it means to be indie for hell's sake.

I've written everything you wanted to hear and I've written everything that I needed to know about myself.

I've written about your daughter.

I've written about what you wrote about your daughter and how it makes me cry every time because my daddy would never have the stones to say it himself.

I've written about it all, Kyle.

And now that I'm on my own, sitting here in front of this retina display screen, I'm drawing a blank.

So please Kyle, give me one more prompt.

One more idea that will put me in the top 5 because in my head I'm still there.

Still there sitting in a desk and watching you teach us how to live life through words and expression.

Teaching us that it is ok to be yourself.

And though everyone else has got up and left the classroom I'm still in my seat.

Just waiting for one more assignment.

Tell me what to write Kyle,

because I'm standing here on this stage without a piece that will make the audiences' fingers bleed.

Without a piece for you to comment on.

Without a piece that will take me back to Paris.

Just give me a damn prompt.

Because I can't think of a single thing to say that will make you proud.

-Charles Darnell

It's February 26th but it feels like March 14th

I spent lunch with Lexi and Gabi today.
We talked with Nelson and for just a moment everything made sense.
I understood why she shaved her head.
I understood why she needs an IV.
I understood why I had been spending my lunches alone in the corner of the classroom.
I understood why nobody dressed up for Itzel when she was diagnosed.

No wait, I still don't understand that bit.








I don't think he knows this but that classroom that we sat in today saved my life.



I don't think he gets how that poem about his daughter made me sob.


I don't think he understands how much I wanted to run into his arms and weep when I mentioned her death anniversary today.





I've been crying all week.

And it's so hard to stuff it in when your friend is supposed to be 18 years old and not 6 feet underground.

She's laying in that white coffin and if I could I would take her place if she asked me to.
If she got tired of the dark and cold and wanted to feel the sunlight on her face I would dig my own grave and smile the whole way down and she could be happy.


And maybe she is happy.



But I sure as hell am not.



And even though this afternoon made sense I'm still confused about why she had to go so soon.

I'm still confused about how I didn't get the chance to say I love you.

To say goodbye.



"You are my sweetest downfall.
                             I loved you first."




With love to Gabi, Lexi, and Kyle,


Charles Darnell

the power couple

they let me sit next to them during lunch today.


and they'll never know how much it meant to me to feel wanted.

Nice Try

I think we can all agree that the fact that you proposed to her on my birthday was kind of a dick move.

Honestly, you had to try and stick it to me by choosing my birthday, the day before valentines day? You know she's always going to wonder why you didn't wait one more day to make it more romantic.

But you'll never tell her that the day before valentines day was the day you said you were going to take me to dinner, but since I broke off contact you had to try and piss me off.

You'll keep me a secret, like how you made me keep your infidelity a secret.

Cock.

Bitter(but not so)sweet

Love.

love. l     o     v      e. love.

LOVE

It doesn't look like a real word.

Probably because it isn't one.

To me, anyway.

I know that this prompt is supposed to be about romantic love and kissing and sex and stuff, 

but to me, that's not important anymore.

Having been a victim of that type of love, I prefer not to discuss it because its s t u p i d.

But this is just coming from someone whose only relationship ended up in her getting abused and cheated on.

From someone who went on a date with a guy last weekend who previously told her he liked her and then dropped her off early on the date because he changed his mind and thought it was ok to lead her on.

From someone who can't even fathom the thought of someone loving her for who she is and not for how good of a make-out she can be.

I guess I'm just bitter.

And my lips aren't as sweet as they used to be, because they sucked all the sugar out.

And here I am, a unsavory aftertaste.

Something that nobody wants to experience.

Your bitter lips,

Charles Darnell

Rose Art is Crayola for the Poor Kids

..... well we all know it's true.


There's no point in sugarcoating the fact that your mom didn't have the cash to get you the quality product.

There's no point in pretending that the kids didn't give you hell about it.

There's no point in ignoring the fact that the teachers kept an eye on you for only getting those for back to school crayons.

But the thing is I wasn't one of the Rose Art Kids.

I was part of the Crayola Cult.

And Rose Art Kid, you weren't missing out on much.

The kids in the Crayola cult are just as mean to each other as they are to you.

satan took me to the lookout

his lips gently glide against my exposed neck

and all i can do is breathe

i am alive

but i am not complete 

heaven has my hand

hell has my calf

they are tearing me in half

but damn i love the pain

the valley stretches out 

but i keep stuffing it in

and i know that i should scream it

but the devils mouth is sweet

and i know it tastes like candy

but it comes with a bitter after taste

at first it all is orange

but then the toothpaste sets in

he likes it when i bite his lip

but he bites too hard

whereas my bite is soft

and his cuts and scars

don't be naive you innocent thing

the devil doesn't love you 

and i'm sorry it took this to make you see

that all he really loved

was what he could do to you in the backseat