Written and Illustrated by Carly Carlos

Table of Contents

o Introduction 3

o “What is Darkness?” 4

o “What is it?” 5

o “The Touch” 6

o “Them, Their” 7

o “Spring is…” 8

o “The Modern Key to Not Being Love-ist” 9

o “To B” 11

o About Carly Carlos 12

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Introduction

There needs to be a required class on grief. Grief is something that everyone will

have to feel in their lives eventually, yet people avoid it like the plague. There are

stigmas around grief that are unspoken: “it must be this many steps”, “it must only

happen for this long”, “you shouldn’t express it in public”, “grieving won’t make them

come back”, “only certain relationships must be grieved for”…

Let me tell you something. It’s okay to grieve. It’s okay for other people to grieve.

It’s okay to grieve for an animal. It’s okay for grieving to take years to get over. It’s okay

to repeat the grieving cycles over and over. It’s all normal. You’re not crazy for feeling

loss of any kind. That’s human nature.

As for why this chapbook exists, it is a look into my own grieving process.

Without going too in depth into detail, grief’s been on my mind for awhile now. It’s been

a personal struggle that I’ve been learning to live with. No one taught me how to grieve,

and maybe that’s not a good thing.

So maybe my writings over the past semester might help someone else. The

idea is that this chapbook would start off dark and get lighter as it goes – the ideal

process, of sorts. I hope it helps.

~C
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What is Darkness?

Is it the feelings of the purest hate?

Is it the greed that breathes through humankind?

Is it the need to take revenge until one is blind?

Is it the power-hungry need to dictate?

Or, could it be something great?

Like the stubbornness to keep things straight?

Maybe, darkness is misunderstood.

Like confusion covering a hidden heart.

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What is it?
If it is fiery and burning

And like a dance

With ten steps too wrong.

With someone telling you at each turn

That your curtsey is too high or too low.

Can you win?

A macabre wish that won’t die

“Until you’re older”.

“I’ll stop grouping them when they stop grouping me,

They’re dooming us all.”

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The Touch

On a paper in the middle of the hotel room,

“Losing your touch is losing your mind”

Scrawled in blue ink all over the front page

And I wonder who wrote it

And how we’ve lost our touch.

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Them, Their

I sit sometimes and ponder about life

As a watch people come and go in a crowded place.

I only know my own mind

My solitude, my world,

But I don’t know Theirs.

It’s hard to imagine being them.

Do They maybe think in rhyme?

Does Their chest heave with each breath the same way mine does?

Do They live inside themselves and look out of Their world?

Do They wonder about life and about humankind?

Do They worry about shutting out or standing out?

Do They feel the sun on Their faces

Or the wind on Their fingertips?

Do They know who They love?

Is the world as bright for Them?

    Are the colors as vivid?

  I will never know.

That’s ok.
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Spring is…

What Spring isn’t is a full patch of green.

It’s the splotches in the meadow that vary from shade to shade.

It’s the speckle of yellow of blades

not yet ready to turn and change.

It’s the tan-white-grey

Wounds of Earth left that may never heal

Or destined to be covered up by

A veil of vanity and shame.

Shame is an unnatural green.

Yet, I sit in the open sun

Watch as the dead leaves fade away

Admire the Earth’s scars

Cheer on the yellowed blades of grass

Appreciate those splotches of green

And finally, begin to heal.

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The Modern Key to Not Being Love-ist

When people think about love, they only think about it in a certain narrative. It’s a

stereotype on its own - two people hand-in-hand, laughing and walking with the sun

shining on them like the gods put a spotlight on them. Rose petals drifting on a breeze

just so happening to blow in their direction; a perfect blink in time. It’s the briefest of

moments in which true joy comes together in harmony.

And it’s all bullshit.

There is no true form of love, but there’s still something powerful about it that

people don’t talk about enough. It is often thought of as romantic love, but that’s not all

there is. You can love a friend for just filling a role in your life. You can love a pet for

existing and being there for you. It’s all still love. What matters is that love happens

when someone else can forgive you for being human. That love is just as valid.

However, even with our fixation on it, romantic love is mischaracterized. When

true romantic love hits, a flurry of feelings and thoughts that swarm around your head

like the colony of wasps on the roof of the house that are too high for you to get rid of.

It’s frightening, in the way, and sometimes painful, but unavoidable. It simply comes with

the territory.

Life will never play out like a movie. Everything you imagine about spending time

with that other of your dreams won’t be picture perfect in the slightest. Limbs will fly and

crash down into each other. Hair will be in the most inconvenient and possibly

disgusting places imaginable. Flatulence will be passed. At least one of you will be
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doubled over with a sharp intake of air. Yet, these awkwardnesses of life will be the

funniest thing you’ve ever experienced at that moment and you’ll share it together.

Those are the types of love that’ll stick with you. Not the fanciful rose-tinted

camera lenses of social media or movies; not the picture-perfect romances of our era.

The people in your life that can laugh with you about mistakes. The love of any shape

that embraces how human you both are and can run with that imperfection. The love

that truly heals.

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To B

Lion atop the stairwell

With sharp, questioning eyes

Staring down unblinking

Curiosity undisguised.

Little delicate needles

That cut and puncture and tear.

The soft little feet

With pink jellybean toes.

Lumped warm loaf

That bends and stretches

Like an accordion when lifted.

The deep rumbling sound

That erupts when comfort is needed.

This is the nature of the feline:

Leopards, panthers, and tigers.

Each wanting food

NOW.
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About the Author…

Carly Carlos is an aspiring fantasy novelist whose personal motto is “I have

emotions to spare. Take some, please”. She is currently working on two trilogy-

spawning series, Draconian Design and The Chronicles of Imperia.

She currently lives in Canton, Texas, with her family and pets. She is an

undergraduate student at the University of Texas at Tyler, double majoring in

Psychology and English.

You can check out her website at www.carloscreatives.com for more details

about upcoming releases.

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