i'm screaming against windows
in a 4 x 4 room by a crowded street,
anticipating a turn of the head
or slam against glass in wonderment.
i'm thrashing above and under
a crowded pier,
onlookers engaged more
by alcohol and bikini bottoms
than the girl's lungs full of seawater.
i'm sinking into a bed, certain
black moths and butterflies outside
are the only insects interested
in this bedsheet quicksand.
i'm throwing the bird who cries,
wings flapped and gripping the ledge,
overboard to dull any will left
in its blue body.
nobody notices the 150 pound girl,
so who would listen to an animal's forced swan-song?
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 9:21 AM UTC
i want to dig out optimism
from the brown marrow
constructing these bones.
strip the faith and belief
from light and dark flesh.
maybe then,
the dirt my feet sink into
wouldn't stretch deeper
around ankles and calfs
until i'm submerged
from the waist up,
neck up.
body buried
thanks to naive hope.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 8:59 AM UTC
she’s smiled from the sidelines,
watching as you waved her away and soared to the sky.
she’s hoped you remember her
as you spread your wings farther,
kissing the wind and touching every cloud.
you come back again,
welcomed by open arms and a girl unmoved.
she’s wondered if you notice
how hard her knees have buckled.
how does she tell you she misses you
without making a scar on your absence?
how can she keep composure as the minutes pass,
broken and jagged
like the word “okay” feels
as it slides down her throat?
how does she use her quiet assurances
to explain she’s still at a loss for words?
how does she express what she needs to
without losing you in such a declaration?
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 4:25 PM UTC
i'm tired
of these small places in plain sight
where i bare the lightning strikes in my lungs.
of crouching in corners
to crumble from the earthquakes in my chest.
of these select and precise times
where i seek silent okays
to hide away when i'm not.
of the invisibility
to the depths of my pain.
of the silence i've bound myself to
for the sake of the "balance" i dance with.
of the quiet agreement i've made
to keep myself in pieces to spare everyone from falling apart.
i'm tired from the agony of hiding.
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 7:35 PM UTC
in a moment
typically reserved for peace
after the blaze of a storm,
i find the comfort i lost to the wind.
i sit in stillness after the crashes.
i stay serene without fear of the earth shaking again.
i am content after what has come.
i was driven into the dark
and i couldn't see my way out while i was in,
but now i'm here
and i'm okay.
i may not be in the next moment,
the next minute, or the next time the storm calls for me.
but i'll be here,
and i can count on that single moment
to bring the calm back to the chaos.
if i remember that before i'm swept away again,
i'll be fine.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 4:19 AM UTC
i want to unzip myself
and throw away the vile contents,
throw it somewhere i can forget it all exists.
throw away the reminders.
throw the unknowing blank faces.
throw away what they would do to me
once they knew:
how hard i was sinking under everything they needed me to be,
how i'm only living half alive,
how much i hate their unawareness
to every baseless "i'm fine" and "i'm okay."
they would throw me deeper down
into this hole i've tried to stay content in.
but my hands are caked in dirt,
and my chest surely will sink me
if i don't shed these pieces of me soon.
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 12:50 AM UTC
picture it:
two girls, hand in hand.
picture the first as a happy girl,
vibrant even.
she laughs and jokes constantly,
gives compliments, and offers support.
always the shoulder to lean on,
and has the nice remarks when you need them.
she walks for you, acts for you, always sees your problems for you.
never gives up until there's a smile on your face.
she's got her problems,
but she would never show it on hers.
she's invincible and you can see it too.
now see the second girl:
she's fragmented,
split constantly.
always screaming against a box of glass
no-one bothers to turn their head towards.
imagine the piercing of the cries,
the depth of her voice.
the night accompanies
the softness of her face
and the rivers of her tears.
her chest digs deeper inward
and the weights on her body crush her harder
than she thought was possible.
she wonders if it all will eat her alive,
and not one person will notice her absence in the world.
would you believe me
if i told you both girls were the same?
would you realize
that the girl who's fierce, bright, and always strong
is screaming for someone to notice she isn't?
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 2:20 AM UTC
no words / no actions / no thoughts
can change the pain of the past.
we can try to erase each piece of it all,
but in the end,
we are born from what has hurt us.
however...
we can find a place to start
and rise against the hurt,
the tears, and the memories
that have threatened to break us.
it isn't an easy feat,
and i would be naive to say it is,
but each morning says hello to me
with a chance to step forward.
and i would rather move with the odds against me,
than sit and watch them destroy me
along with what i can't let go.
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 1:20 PM UTC
and i didn't expect the sun to open
the chorus to start singing
or infinity to be possible
love isn't the cure for the damaged
a drink to ail the sick
some enlightenment to be experienced
or a brilliant discovery to untie life's sturdiest knots
i know this wholeheartedly
but in the moment
you looked my way
with such simplicity
that i knew maybe it might not be okay now
but the blow hit me less
and i would be alright eventually
as long as you looked at me
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 4:41 AM UTC
until there's nothing left
in your eyes
i carry ounces and pounds and tons
like they're feathers flying through the air
weightless and bountiful
and plentifully fine on the space of my back
you give and give and give and give
the matter that seems to weigh you down
with little regard for the emptiness of agreement
my words long to fill and object
i'm not asking for too much
i just want you to know
my back isn't spacious
my arms aren't made of steel
my face isn't built of stone and promises
for your words and actions to take in
i'm not something that is resourceful
i fall and i shatter
and i'm drowning from everything
you take and take and take
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 4:05 PM UTC