It isn’t every day
That a young girl steals her wings.
Decides to break the rules,
No matter what trouble it brings.
I used to swim in this creek,
Just my best friend and me.
But now it’s a well known secret
The truth of which I won’t admit.
I skip rocks on the water.
I skip class, smoke ****
Kiss this man like I’m not somebody’s daughter.
He lies to my face, because he knows I’m naive.
But when the sun trickles down
In between the branches and the leaves,
When the water makes pretty sounds,
It’s worth it to learn to spread my wings.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 12:44 AM UTC
I don’t think it’s gotten easier.
As the years slip by, as time
Heals all wounds but leaves
the emptiness. And there’s no one home.
(How do I remember you? With the taste
of smoke in my lungs. Try again.
How do I remember you? Like a gun
and I never know if the safety is on.)
The guilt still does light labor
In the cycles of R.E.M,
When I realize I feel uneasy
to see you again. And there is no home.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 12:43 AM UTC
The worn leather
wrinkles under my cheek
as it has for three days now.
I spend my nights
stretched
across
two cushions,
folding in
on myself as
I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Mom hasn’t come back
yet I know that she will,
because she always has.
My not-old-enough-older-sister
reminds me of this fact.
I don’t feel sad, or scared,
or maybe anything at all.
I only feel the cracks in this couch.
I stop playing with my baby dolls.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 12:42 AM UTC
The world is so big
It swallows me easily.
Maybe I should fight,
But what good would that do when
I so enjoy the dark night.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 12:41 AM UTC
my gentle fingers create divots within her supple skin
squeezing her,
mocking the ache in my chest
upon the first taste.
refreshed on the brightest days
splashed by the warmth of sunrays.
it’s been many long months,
in the minutes between.
and suddenly i am back on earth,
brought back to life,
her on her back,
my mouth on her thighs.
Apr 7, 2025
Apr 7, 2025 at 3:42 AM UTC
The time must pass,
The past must change.
The future comes
And slips away.
These men who think
Our lives are games.
Their toys to break
Their things to play.
They preach of “crimes”
they hate and scorn .
They want us gone
Each night and day.
No crime to name
Except our own.
Monuments of wars we’ve won,
Reduced to bits, as if undone.
And yet we march
And yet we scream,
“We will fight
We will not break.
Under your boot
We will not stay.
Not before
And not today.”
Apr 7, 2025
Apr 7, 2025 at 3:42 AM UTC
The lovers,
They melt.
Flowing and naked.
Their colors,
They blend
As I slowly awaken.
I was so young the first time that I saw them
Taken aback by the honesty of desire
So blatantly plastered on my grandmother’s wall.
Sometimes I think she put them in the bathroom
Just so I could stare behind doors.
Admire the truth
Instead of shying from it.
And with them, I grew—
To know, to love
To own and to hang
In my own ****** apartment,
They watch as I cry,
As I nap,
As I break my cheap couch.
They’ll watch as I move—
Up, up,
And out.
Apr 7, 2025
Apr 7, 2025 at 3:42 AM UTC
I am not a novelist, I am a poet.
Stories run through me, from me,
Not sunny.
I stutter and I stumble
My dialogue is bad
And with prose, I teem.
Time buries me with
A million lines,
Too many commas,
Too many rhymes.
“So write a collection!” exclaim the encouragers,
But the worn backspace of my keyboard groans,
“Oh, don’t you encourage her!”
And so I am a poet, a novelist I am not.
Wishing for more words, until Time lets me rot.
Apr 7, 2025
Apr 7, 2025 at 3:41 AM UTC
I count my heartbeats in time with the clouds.
I hold the smoke.
Let it blacken my lungs.
Four-hundred thumps in the time they move four trees down.
Exhale, and accept
This rocky path to which I’ve clung.
The horses almost trip,
While dragging their carts.
Like a half-finished sentence,
Lost at the start.
I am stuck in this place,
The air thick with time,
And lost in gravace.
Apr 7, 2025
Apr 7, 2025 at 3:40 AM UTC
When the sun is empty of you,
I find myself slipping,
Spinning downward as my feet
Reach for the earth below.
When the sun is empty of you,
I find myself teetering on the string
That ties us.
Grasping at everything that feels like our home.
When the sun is brimming with you,
I find myself,
automatistically,
Creating beauty with every part of us.
Balanced,
You hold me steady
As the wind roars
And the clouds open.
Drunk on your scent,
My biomorphic soul melts into the air
Until the sun is once again,
Empty of you.
Apr 7, 2025
Apr 7, 2025 at 3:39 AM UTC