i am in a haze today. it is cloudy and beautiful outside. it is also pressing down on my chest and i struggle for air. i wore your shirt to bed last night and it helped steady my oxygen supply. i wish you were here to say my name and speak to me in my native tongue to remind who i am and where i've come from. i'm forgetting everything, slowly. recreating yourself is only good when you haven't done it five thousand times over. i just want to be me now. but how do i become me if there is no you? pick me up from the library and walk me to class. hold my hand and tell me that you will stay with me no matter how grey the sky is or how cold my fingers feel.
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 9:35 PM UTC
i learned to smile
really, smile
for there is so much to be happy about
i read a book
and another, and another
for i wished to enlighten myself
i paid attention to the little things
the way the trees turn crimson and gold
when autumn forces its way in
i watched you laugh
and her laugh, and him laugh
and saw joy in its simplest form
i held the hand
of the person i felt most comfortable with
for affection is my favorite form of affirmation
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 2:16 PM UTC
10 at night the wind is piercing, relentless
the moon shoots through the window like a bow and arrow and
shimmers off of the oil-on-canvas painting of a willow
hanging by the door
you’re throwing a few t-shirts and your favorite pair of ripped levi’s into the coffee-colored backpack i gave you last summer it was your birthday
god i don’t want you to leave
flip over the record and please stay
until it’s finished
but you can’t
and i know you have so much too much to offer
your unmatched compassion the way your eyes glimmer in an instant when a bird
first takes flight
you have been here through my best and worst have seen me radiate shades of pale blue
and for this i am thankful
though i’m neglected from my thoughts left fidgeting through a barbed wire fence
realizing the shocks are all i’ve felt in weeks months
i must let it be
so i lie back soak in a lukewarm water filled cast iron tub trace the rim of it with a
shriveled finger
and let it be
as i remain static
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 11:12 PM UTC
you have shown me the warmest colors—truly, sweetly,
and with gentle hands, you guided me out of the damp and
frigid abyss with which my heart remained,
tainted and undignified.
you ran off and eloped with the sun, and ever since, have shone so bright that I have lost my balance completely,
though I no longer feel sorrow for myself.
my head was once an inferno, but I have since traded the flames for another fortune.
violet hues and soft scents of eucalyptus filled the air and,
almost suddenly,
I felt at peace.
as I watched you blossom into shapes of lilies, I aspired to find a new home, and soon settled in a vast field, encompassed with strawberries, plump and rich and saccharine.
various shades of red melted off onto my hands and left them permanently stained.
I had once deserted myself—my entire being made into a shameful bore, paying no mind to myself
nor those in which I cherished most—it was then that I knew I must become renewed.
I found a wooden basin and filled it to the brim with the finest oils and rinsed off any remaining impurities,
and while allowing my bones to breathe,
I wondered where you have gone to.
for now, I’ll succumb to the light of the moon, and dwell within my new being—refined.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 11:22 PM UTC
she can’t breathe she can’t breathe
her lungs have collapsed and
i’m left wondering
why it can’t be me instead
i’m submerged in a pit of mud and
i know i can never fully become clean again
god she doesn’t deserve this
a soul is as fragile as a dove and
i’m not ready for her to take flight
please not yet
she’s left there exposed scalp weightless
as though gravity has abandoned her
her body decays slowly steadily
from the cancer in her blood
and i can feel the blood trickle through my veins
to my toes i can’t feel anything and
i think i’m selfish for realizing this
her life span sliced in half by a jagged blade
i feel as if the tip of it skimmed my heart
i’m plagued with a sorrow so intense
i could crumble every mountain
with a single clenched fist
i can’t breathe i can’t breathe
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 5:16 PM UTC
Language, manipulated and
spewing out of my limbs like a divine creature—
but what does it mean?
Similes taking form like sprouting dahlias.
Metaphors, monuments of staggering praise
for late wordsmiths.
Abandoned thoughts drain themselves into a
glass fixture of laser beams screaming at the world.
Language,
a broken jar, aching to be pieced back
together in hopes of being filled to the brim
with a French mélodie.
Shade me from the misery of
Earth’s neglected face, and I will proclaim your
significance to every being.
Words, I have danced with you too many times to
remain ignorant of your mastery.
May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC