Kevin Khim
Bio
choreographer and everything else
Stories (7/0)
The Last Cigarette
Thoughts of you between my lips never seem to leave my head. It was a craving that nothing else couldn’t fix. Even from the start we were a "match" made in hell, ready to set this whole world on fire. A reflection of all my bad habbits rolled into one. Relentlessly staining my smile with small moments of bliss. Sometimes I wonder if you're really worth all the toxicity in my life. Somehow I’ve became dependent on all the things you made me feel, knowing damn well you're slowly killing me. I've grown to ignore all the red flags about you in hopes the cancer isn’t the one to finally kill me. This isn't what I had in mind when I said you took my breath away. Yet here you are, giving me internal warmth. Pack after pack, I wonder how much more my lungs can take before my heart gives out. Perhaps one day I'll learn how to quit you, but for now... one more time can't hurt.
By Kevin Khim4 years ago in Poets
Dodging Bullets
I gradually wake up to the smell of burning incense & hearing my parent's voices on an old karaoke machine. I sit up to rub my eyes as their voices intertwine into a sweet melody. Having heard stories of the khmer rogue war stuck inbetween their native tongue, their encounters of flying bullets reminds us to move to the rhythm of every beat. They danced together on this foreign land knowing it's far from perfect, yet they were taught to make the best out of these situations. I seem to remember the early mornings at the temple. I start by praying for better days, as my mind wonders off to think if I'm even worthy of that. Bent out of a position, my leg fills up with static as it falls asleep to the sound of chanting monks. My eyes eventually becomes a television screen, it connects to my broken surround sound system where my stomach rumbles out of hunger. The sound echoes across the room as the embarrassment carries me outside. Strange. I see a monk discreetly smoking a cigarette, he puts out the ashes on the holy ground. He stares back at me and exhales a cloud of nicotine addiction onto my face. The remaining second hand smoke kills my appetite, it buries what's left of my happiness in it's place. My thoughts becomes a new warzone. It tells me to start dodging bullets.
By Kevin Khim5 years ago in Poets
About That Night
This was the first time I met you. Your smile graciously blinded my eyes as I tried to memorize every note that your voice made. Hiding your laughter behind the sleeves on that black sweater, I'm just doing my best to keep this conversation going. We walked together on this frigid night, as a stranger said we looked like a cute couple. We chuckled awkwardly while I took a glance at you. In the back of my mind, I secretly wished this was true. You see- my thoughts seems to romanticize every moment as I play these memories back on a TV screen. Like losing the remote behind the seat cushion, I'm stuck here looking at the details in your broken heart. I'm left wondering why someone like you has been hurt so many times. Yet I could say the same thing about myself. Honestly I'm just glad we found each other tonight. We were later in a mood for some tacos. You tried eating -faced the other way because you were shy of looking messy, which I thought was cute. And I accidentally overloaded my order with onions, forgetting to save room for your sweet lips. I can't believe I just said that, but could ya' really blame me wanting you for dessert. Driving to a view I know of, we swerved off the road thinking we saw a klan member. Yes, a klan member. We laughed in disbelief, wondering who in their right mind would run around at a time like this. Thinking about it now, when is the timing ever right?- for me at least. We parked over and trespassed up this hill. My lungs begin mimicking of how out of breath I was, while you still radiated under these stars. Closing your eyes, as I guided you up. I took a moment to paint this picture in my head. You then gazed out to the city lights as Frank Ocean played on my speaker. Not knowing how to ask you to dance with me, I threw my arms out hoping you'd put yourself in them. And you did. Taking a deep breath of this cold air, I was lucky enough to still feel your warmth on my skin. I've realized it's been months since I held anyone this close to myself. I continued to re-adjust my grip on you, hoping that time doesn't slip away. Then slowly placed my cheek on your head as we swayed around with my two left feet. This felt... nice. At this time, I started resisting the urge to kiss you. I wanted to fully show you self love before you found anything in me. I'm just hoping you didn't take those subtle moments the wrong way. So here I am, still thinking that kiss will be worth the wait.
By Kevin Khim5 years ago in Poets
Magic
These days, I'm too scared to say "I love you." For all the times that I did–we entered a magic show, and you disappeared out of my life. I demanded a refund for all the times I spent planning the future with you, but the show was already over. Putting myself in the magician's shoes. I begin to think that I had one more trick up my sleeve. And so I pulled out a rose. As these thorns pricked at my skin, adding onto the scars that I've already made–the subtle shades of red tell a different story for when I've tried to feel human again. Confused why you haven't appeared yet, I began to go down a list of every spell I know of. "Abracadabra!" "Alakazam!" "Bippity Boppity BOO!" This life just doesn't feel the same without you. There's a saying that a good magician doesn't reveal their secrets, but I've been drawn to tell you everything I know about myself. It's this trust and transparency I had with nobody else. For what I thought was "love," felt like I was drowning in this tank of water, knowing you're the only oxygen that I needed in my life. And the only key I had to escape reality, was for the times we were under these silk sheets. Sometimes, simply being around you, made me feel like I could float in mid air. But even with all of these spectacular feats, I'm starting to think that our magic wasn't real after all.
By Kevin Khim5 years ago in Poets
Crash
The doors slammed shut, planning for our next escape. Holding on tight to these memories, like it was the steering wheel. We raised our voices over a broken radio, hearing nothing but deep static in your words. I eventually shifted the gears in reverse, wishing it was a time machine. As if my imagination couldn't conjure up another reason for us to stay this way. I was careful enough not to make another dent... considering all the damage that's already been done. There's no insurance that would say we'll make it out of this unharmed. But it's times like these, where you can't overlook the flaws. From the broken window for when our trust was shattered. To the new paint job, for all the times we tried to cover up our own mistakes. Our trunk is filled with the baggage of past arguments. Rotting in between the seams. Slowly rusting into something that we can't come back from. My heart starts to look like a broken GPS, as I think about how many times I've been lost because of it. I'm just saying how it's almost a miracle that we're still alive. As no amount of signals will give me the slightest clue of where this relationship is headed. When would we finally realize that these seatbelts have been holding us back? And that these airbags are only cushioning us from an impact just waiting to happen. Please don't fight me on this. I'm tired of feeling like we're running out of gas. Maybe it's about time to make this stop, our last.
By Kevin Khim5 years ago in Poets
Next
To my next girlfriend. Hi, I’m Kevin. I absolutely love french fries. I can eat them all day, in just about any form you could think of. And I don’t drink much. But for the times that I do, I tend to drown myself with every gulp of burning liquor that I could find. It’s easier than swallowing all of the things that I feel for you. I hate goodbyes. I have a really odd fascination with sand castles and ice sculptures. And maybe it’s because I tend to choose to hold on to the things that will only last for a few moments. It's temporary, but at least it's predictable. I’m a creator. I’ve written poems for every heartbreak I’ve had, wondering if I'm still trapped inside these paragraphs that weigh me down. I'd make these run-on sentences thinking that we could last just a bit longer. As each stumble I’ve had was like adding more salt to my wounds. I’m slowly beginning to love myself again, one week at a time. Though my depression may kick me back down, I always find a way to get right up. Just please be patient with me. I may not always know what to say at the right time, but hopefully, my actions would speak louder than words. For a while, I was starting to lose myself. Picking up the pieces that were left off, I’m confident enough to say that I’m still whole. Yet my eyes would never say so, I guess it’s easier than it seems... to spot a lie that can't be true. Desperately looking for clarification. These sorts of things have taken their toll on me. Mending bridges where it's should've burnt out. I guess I care too much to let it stay that way. Going through ashes and smoke, only realizing that all the pain and suffering I've been through was just another joke. At least I'm happy to say, that I've tried my best. Praying to God, that you won't turn out like the rest.
By Kevin Khim5 years ago in Poets
Bad Streak
Loving might be my false hope, I'm too gullible to see it. Too infatuated with you to wanna believe it. This broken heart, eventually counts as two. But it's starting to heal with every thought I have of you. For a moment I was starting to lose hope. It was a losing streak I couldn't get out of. Another bet that I was sure to lose. Yet my luck seems to change. You were the chance I've been waiting for. Gambling in this game we call "love." Throwing my dice at each mistake, planing to kiss you, even on our first date. The cards are set, I hope you're ready. It's just another day, where my heart won't be as heavy.
By Kevin Khim5 years ago in Poets