Details |
Kayla Nguyen Poem
I packed a suitcase
for seven days
stepped onto a ship
and let the ocean air
loosen the names
I had been carrying.
my grief.
my reputation.
my old stories.
I became a girl
who watched midnights
turn into mornings.
a girl who let a boy
look at her
like he had discovered
something rare.
a girl who loved
when the wind mussed her hair
and stole her words.
a girl who walked around
not knowing what tomorrow held
and somehow
loving that.
the thrill of the unknown.
the freedom
of not having to be
the girl carrying
every goodbye
every almost
every version of herself
she had outgrown
but never learned
how to put down.
and then
the ocean gave me back
to a life I almost forgot.
schedules.
responsibilities.
white walls.
questions that waited
exactly where I left them.
a room that still held
the weight I had carried
before I left.
I wasn’t prepared
for how strange it would feel
to mourn a life
that only existed in fragments.
a few sunsets.
a few songs.
a few nights that felt endless
because I knew they weren’t.
but I don’t think
coming home hurts
because the fantasy disappeared.
I think the pain
comes from the evidence.
evidence
that I can spend my whole life
trying to become someone new
and instead
find the girl
I thought I lost
under open skies
among strangers
in a week
far away from home.
that I can still be her
when the world stops telling me
who I am.
the ship
never created me.
it returned me
to myself.
showed me
why I still treasure
the things I cannot keep.
because a sunset
would not hold
such beautiful colors
if it never had to leave
and a moment
would not feel like magic
if I could keep it
forever.
maybe the girl I miss
was never left behind.
maybe
she came home with me.
maybe
she is still here
waiting for me
to stop searching for her
somewhere else.
Copyright © Kayla Nguyen | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Kayla Nguyen Poem
you feel like home
but not the kind
that leaves a spare key.
yours is a house in progress
with half-painted walls
a lockbox on the front door
a basement wrapped in drop-cloth.
to most
the mess means hazards.
danger.
but to me
messy simply means
human.
I’ve walked the grand
unfinished halls
with no map
no plan
but curiosity
and faith
that I can explore.
the spaces seem to whisper
with possibility.
some doors I’ve come upon
reveal beautiful rooms.
others stay locked
requiring keys that I don’t yet have.
when I sit on the porch at night
letting the breeze brush my face
watching fireflies dance
I’m close enough
to feel the warmth
through the shutters.
I never know
quite when to enter
and yet
I keep returning
because
even in construction
the foundation feels safe
and I want to see the blueprints
unfurl into something
I might belong to
someday.
Copyright © Kayla Nguyen | Year Posted 2025
|
Details |
Kayla Nguyen Poem
I sink my telescope
into dew-heavy grass
and prop it up against
the inky black night
bathed in quiet
swirling with stars.
I'm hungry to map the celestial bodies
that dot the sky.
to chart the constellations
that let me get lost in them.
to see
and be seen.
beside me
you're silent
your own optical instrument
unused.
I've realized it's futile
to bring my telescope to your eyes.
it cannot sharpen wonders into view for you
the same way it does for me.
some stars only appear
when we tilt our eyepieces
so we must adjust our settings
calibrate our lenses
find a shared focus.
right now
we observe different skies.
it can unsettle me
and yet
I still want to sit with you.
to try to change my perspective.
to trust that
I'm not the only one
making sacrifices.
to have gratitude
for the gift of knowing you
existing with you
letting go of the future
letting the present hold us
as we are.
Copyright © Kayla Nguyen | Year Posted 2025
|