she is smoke
drifting, she is always drifting;
you say breathing her in hurts
but still, you inhale deeply
drifting, she is always drifting;
She disappears before you can say her name
but still, you inhale deeply
because you love her
she disappears before you can say her name
but she’ll be back again someday
because you love her
because you both can’t stay away
but she’ll be back again someday
because smoke loves the flame
because you both can’t stay away
and you love the ash in your lungs
because smoke loves the flame
you say breathing her in hurts
and you love the ash in your lungs;
she is smoke
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 12:46 AM UTC
In my dreams, I lose my teeth
and packs of wolves howl at me
I run toward them in the moonlight
And when I wake, you're lying there
I'll start to smile, I'll touch your hair
but you'll just turn away
I'll get a coffee, maybe two
whenever I go out with you
in case I start to fall asleep
in case I start to dream
In my dreams, I'm running free
across the land, between the trees
and all the wolves run with me
And in the morning, I am sore
from dreaming hard, from wanting more,
from all these chains that bind me
You say that I've been acting strange,
sleeping all of my days away,
but I'm not tired, and I'm not sleeping
I'm awake, and I am dreaming
In my dreams, they call to me
the mountaintops, the evergreens
and I hear the haunting echo of a howl;
so this is all to let you know
that when I do decide to go
it's really, truly just because of me;
it's only ever been about my dreams.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC
T H E B E G I N N I N G
It's always blue skies,
glittering eyes,
red wine on our lips
when you say goodnight.
It's always new highs,
butterflies,
everything I think I need
to feel right inside.
T H E I N E V I T A B L E
It's always grey skies,
white lies,
red wine on the floor
when we're fighting
for hours 'til you say
you don't love me anymore
and the door closes behind you
and I beg the sun to rise
and it's always
always
always
you who says goodbye
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 2:48 AM UTC
I grew up
reading books about
boys
who say things like,
"You're so beautiful,"
or
"God, I can't believe
I've never known you
before"
and they kiss the girl
and they fall in love
and maybe there's a struggle
somewhere in the middle
but everything is
o k a y
and in the moments after
hearing how beautiful
and wonderful
and amazing
she is,
the girl is happy,
the girl is loved,
the girl is l o v e d.
The last boy who told me I was beautiful
didn't listen
when i said
NO
and I sobbed in my own bed
for three nights
and I couldn't touch my sheets
for five
because it takes a long time
to get blood stains out
when you use the cheap washers
in the dorms.
The last boy who told me I was amazing
left me at five in the morning
and said he'd call
and even as he looked me in the eye,
I knew he wouldn't.
The last boy who told me he liked me
said so as he tried to push my head
in a direction I didn't want it to go
and it seems
that all of these compliments
are meant to be segways
into getting something more.
These compliments
have turned into warnings,
red lights,
get out,
get out,
he only wants you
for your body
and I don't know
how I am ever supposed
to believe someone
when they actually mean it
when all I know
is sugar-coated bullets.
I am reading a book
where the boy whispers
promises between kisses
and I realize
I have never kissed anyone in
the light
and I am numb inside
and I do not want to be called
beautiful
anymore because to me
that means I am
about to be shot.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 12:51 AM UTC
She woke up under a sheet and didn't realize it right away,
but she was lying right next to regret disguised as a
beautiful liar.
Her clothes are on the floor and her head is pounding
and she remembers pushing his hand away but when
she sneaks into his bathroom while he's still passed out,
she sees the blood all over her torn underwear and it becomes
fairly clear what happened last night;
she keeps the bloodied garment only because she needs to say
there was something he didn't take from her
while her vision was blurry
and she texts her friends saying she's home and fine and just
so, so tired, but she stands in a scalding shower for an hour trying to
wash away the disgust and the blood and the bruises
and they won't go, so she tries to sleep, but she's haunted by
everything and is so angry with herself and with him and now it's
midnight again and she hasn't eaten all day and her friends think she's
thrown up seven times because she drank too much,
but the nausea came from the memories,
and now it's been a week and the bruises are yellow
but they still hurt the same
and he never texted her
and she's still bleeding
and she burned that pair of underwear
and cut her hair short
and stuffed that ****** black dress in the back of her closet
and told God she'd happily keep the bruises on her arms
and legs
and hips
and neck
if He would just heal
the ones covering her heart.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
You call all the girls you mess around with "sunshine,"
but none of them light your dark spaces,
your loneliest places.
I'm there at one in the afternoon
with you and your flat tire
and then at three in the morning
with you and your ******
"i love her's,"
your groggy, slurred words
about a girl from the bar
who you won't remember
and you thank me in the morning
when I bring you water
and all you ever call me
is a friend
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 2:00 AM UTC
Imagine honeybees drunk on heaven.
She says, “Don’t you ever stop believing.”
Imagine thousands of stars whispering,
“You are beautiful.”
She says, “Navigating the earth is a danger
I expect you to face.”
Imagine angels passing gentle and cool at the gates.
Imagine a ragged chain of promises Imagine people
ten kilometers above the kingdoms Imagine no danger
Imagine no war Imagine Imagine Imagine.
She says, “You are ultraviolet.”
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
He thinks, “come into the stillness.”
He thinks, “Grow wild, intoxicated.”
Perhaps, he thinks, we are cannonballs.
Perhaps we are glazed and dazzled,
drunk on clarity.
Must we be wiped off the earth?
He sits alone, at night, again.
Shuts off his memory.
He writes: “I am fine
I am fine
I am fine
open your eyes
I am fine.”
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 2:57 PM UTC
Why didn’t he return?
This becomes the question,
the faint heat;
Why didn’t he make it?
She radiates fire;
He becomes unreachable,
futile.
He never arrived.
She is throwing whispered
rhymes across the afternoon,
burned, trying to summon courage,
but failing. She no longer wakes.
He Is Not Coming Back.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
I try to make it him.
I try to stare into his eyes and
feel the same but
I don't and I wish I could,
I wish it could be him,
I wish it wasn't you,
but it's you,
it's you,
it's you and I
do not know
if that will ever change.
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC