my boyfriend blocks me for four days
because I won’t give him the chair he wants.
I’m left scrolling through IKEA listings,
pretending the algorithm knows my waiting.
outside, neighbors drag out plastic stools
for another birthday party. balloons
tied to the wrong wrist, a dog howling
like it knows who gets the last seat.
on day three, I start naming the chairs
in my apartment: recliner as prophet,
barstool as witness. I kneel before
the ottoman, bargaining like a priest.
when he unblocks me, it feels
less like forgiveness, more like return policy:
no receipt, box dented, parts missing.
we drag it inside together, silent, already exhausted.
what I wanted to say was:
I would’ve sat on the floor
if it meant staying.
Aug 17, 2025
Aug 17, 2025 at 11:52 AM UTC
i **** on the patch of swollen purple on my thigh
pick the scabs my wounds formed
and dance around the beast's smoke
sometimes, i scream at him
tell him to leave
but he always screams louder
i need to bury him anyway
enfold him in the land of past selves and bad habits
and when i do
the light will pour in
as my heart grows golden roots
and the choir sings a chorus of release
while my body sways along
200419
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 5:08 AM UTC
the boy with tousled black hair met my gaze and cocked his head to the side. "come here", he mouthed with a grin that allowed his fangs, sharp and glinting, to come into view. they were like diamonds and i was a lapidary, fueled to engrave him into my memory. the other boy beside him was too busy placing kisses all over his pale neck to notice i had moved closer. eventually, he stopped. his silver eyes flashed into mine, and his lips barked a kind of laughter that brought a slick of sweat to my palms. "Claudius, who is this?"
Claudius stood up, his voice mocking. "our appetizer."
the urge to run kicked me to the stomach, but my feet couldn't sprint quick enough.
he pierced his fangs into my neck, and i drifted.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 6:41 AM UTC
the hazy moon dipped into silver
the glinting stars sank into gold,
and it was as if you were plucked from the pool of darkness
and plunged into the face of the earth
the constellations on your celestial body
the supernova glow of your being
is the starlight everyone needs
Apr 13, 2019
Apr 13, 2019 at 6:01 AM UTC
the secrets you want to keep veiled
the words you wish you had said
are hidden away in junk drawers, dusty cupboards, bulging closets
tell them that is safe here
tell them to step into the bright sun
tell them of the sanctuary that is a lover's gentle fold
we await them
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 7:55 AM UTC
every star in the night sky
wishes to kiss me in gold dust
every rough body of ocean
wishes to wash over me in healing salt
every rose bush, blooming or wilting
wishes for me to tend to their roots
my hands do not falter,
for my golden heart
never runs out of gleaming currency
my voice cuts through the silence,
the dagger in my hand is sheathed
in a white dress and red lipstick
my home, a well-built powerhouse
stands on dark rocks,
overlooking an indigo sea at twilight.
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 9:46 AM UTC
the storm clouds threatened
to pull me into the blue river
and drown me in a mix of cobalt and smoke
i was pushed into the rift
the folds of brine,
so i pulled out my pockets
hoping the last bit of blush pinks
and buttercup yellows
would save me from the patches
of leaden gray
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 8:20 PM UTC
when the Tuscan sunlight trickled through the blinds,
pouring gold specks into the room
and your light hums reverberated into my ear
as we laid in tangled sheets
it dawned on me that
home was never a place —
home was a person.
this is it, i thought
this is home.
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 9:34 AM UTC
the darkness knows all my secrets.
he hands me a cluster of bones from my closet
the ones i've tried to bury
he conducts a séance for the memories
the ones i've tried to smother gone
the darkness knows how deep the storm roars in my chest,
and smiles at the rumble of thunder
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 11:06 AM UTC
i wish i could go back -
hold the little boy with unkempt, inky hair
and clumsy, painted fingertips
by the hand and tell him:
“you are a hero.
you will soar into the sky
with your crimson cape
and pointe shoes;
the crowd will tell you
to fight tougher, punch harder
but i believe in you
and that's enough.”
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 10:50 AM UTC