Happy Monday!

Good Morning Y’all!

Oh, come on! Don’t give me that look—

I’m so happy about this week. I’ve been getting back to typing up random short fiction, poetry (which is numbered according to date) and the random posts I’m good and dishing out regularly. Of course, I want to share it with you all here on my blog. I hope that you will find the coming posts interesting.

On a non-writing related note, I’ve chosen to make mini-goals to progress forward in terms of finance and living the life I want to live. One thing that I really must deal with is fear. It has been the biggest hindrance in my life so far. I’ll be talking about these things as silly as some of them seem. If I say something about it and put action into facing my fears, maybe I’ll encourage some of you to live as well.

I would also like to get back into the groove of socializing. The thing that has become almost obsolete in at least my personal life. I hope that you all have a gorgeous Monday.

© Kyanna K.


I wonder whether birds fly objectively. When they flap their wings, and charge their path, if they’re moving knowingly. Even when the wind is rough and sun won’t shine and still they fly and fly and fly.

When they glide through and through relentless squalls and still—I’ve become curious about their sweet candor. Daunted by forces beyond their will and still they fly. And they fly like they flew and have flown and always will.

© Kyanna Kitt


You bother me like a person who simply can’t understand. I break my ideas down to child speak and still there is no clear semblance. When you see me in the morning, in presence of other you seem different. Have I not nurtured you? Did I not give you when I had nothing? Did I not dance with you even when you turned and looked away?

I wonder how many clever ways I can explain or express what I feel—or at least what I felt. When you selectively endear me and somehow on most fundamental of bases feed my erasure, how do you explain that you care about me? How can you claim friendship even platonically? I’ve shielded the bitter cold from reaching your sweet skin. I’ve held you when you had nothing left. Not to protect your pride but to protect you.

I forsook myself to make you whole and still—that look. Those eyes.

©Kyanna Kitt


I carefully searched for myself in the nightly place. Picking apart metaphors in search for relevancy. Purposefully choosing the innate truth over nature and what I deserve. Beneath the noise, under the bumbling of the voices—the thoughts and unspoken words. I listened to your reflection. The imagery. Gorgeous, bright oxygen. If it weren’t for you, your likeness, I wouldn’t be.

© Kyanna Kitt


I smell the flowers all the time

I walk between the blades of rye

I lift my head beyond their leaves

I pray dear Lord, upon the eve


And in the night beneath ruffled throw

Between the clouds, I’ll surely go

And in the morn before I wake

The kindest gift He’ll surely take


For in the night when I’m alive

When pain is gone and sorrow dies

A fearsome tome of jaded feat

Allures my heart; the great deceit


© Kyanna Kitt