You were a month of deception, picking at old scabs to birth new blood. You were both the steaming cup of tea and the burnt tongue aftermath. You were hard. But you made me soft, the same way a child learns to read: Sound out the words. Form them with your lips. Speak. I doContinue reading “DEAR APRIL”
I hate that you kissed me. Hate your audacity to melt my wax all over again, igniting at the wick, flickering all night long, for giving me a dream to burn for. Even after winter taught us to stand alone, separate candlesticks in separate lives– that night, you stole the fire I made for myself,Continue reading “THAT NIGHT”
When I was younger and blinded by the spell of perfection, I wanted nothing more than to settle down, to let the dust of existence bury me in a world of plastic. I wanted to be like those silly wedding cake figurines: my Ken doll dream man and me, perfectly balanced on the top tierContinue reading “OBJECTIONS”
honey. You messed with the wrong girl, you know. This one is a poet, and God, aren’t those just the worst? She is flammable, the girl with night sky eyes and pen-stained hands. Maybe you should’ve tried to break someone else, someone who wouldn’t incinerate your bones and harvest their ashes for ink. Maybe youContinue reading “BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME,”
I love a boy who loves me and it is not a secret anymore.
i. I remember the sky being as purple as a blanket made of bruises. It was the end of summer. We were children lying underneath a starry dream. You kissed me. Not once, not twice, but three times, because you wanted to make it perfect, as if you were learning how to write in cursiveContinue reading “A COLLECTION OF SUNDAYS”
When I am up there, glittering under pale white lights, there is no other world. This is my only reality– the adrenaline dance, the roaring crowd, the delirious insanity of it all. I forget my heartache. Up there, it is dead. I forget about the insecurity that lives on my skin, the fears that hideContinue reading “CENTER STAGE”
We have never spent a summer together but for some reason, everything he is reminds me of the season. Something about red cheeks and giddiness, incomprehensible emotion– like a first love but even better, so sweet it feels like August in the middle of April. It feels like we’ll never grow old, suspended in permanentContinue reading “AUGUST FOREVER”
i. Hearts are fragile objects. I don’t know why they don’t come to earth birthed in bubble wrap, secured in styrofoam. Sometimes I worry mine will slip through the crevices of my rib cage and shatter. We need to be more gentle. ii. I will continue to outgrow people. Even if at one point theirContinue reading “18 lessons learned in 18 revolutions around the sun”
in the way the azalea bush in my front yard never asked for permission to bloom, it just did.