Sometimes I wonder what happened to Kyle; oh how I miss him! |
Kyle Jessica Marie Sometimes I wonder what happened to Kyle, as this picture sparks my memory— with a torn up shirt; ragged to touch, light blue, bloodied--don't you worry too much fake, a bright, bright red. He's such a cute little zombie. The picture, dated 2009, the year that I "met" him, or wished we met in person— I fantasized, a secret hidden beneath, my ex never suspected a lust for his friend. He made fun of Kyle, though, how my longings grew and grew despite the taunts, how unfair of him! He would be perfect for me, unlike this piece of garbage I dated. Kyle was a writer. Much like me. If only, oh if only, we met-- we'd write poems for hours, talk about books while sipping coffee, while musing about our travels to Germany; we'd talk about the wrongs of the world and how our exes screwed us over. We connected on Facebook, a wonderful surprise— I can't remember if I told him how I felt, I think I did. I know I did, just thinking: "we can't do that. If he found out, if he found out, we'd be dead." In hopes to fly to North Carolina, he disappeared, to my dismay, from Facebook and the hope I'd live happily ever after in the snowy region of Asheville with his comic book obsession and dressing up for conventions as zombies or anime characters or whatever— that would be happiness, that would be love. As I look at this picture, a perfect blue day, clouds hanging in the sky; North Carolina looks warm and inviting; his smile lights his fuzzy bearded face and cars zoom behind him. I sometimes wonder what happened to Kyle— oh, how I miss him! |