hi, i don’t know why im back here writing you, or perhaps i do.
i think about you + us often, i went to sf last week + had dinner with liza, she asked about you, she spoke of how engaged you were when you spent time with her + of how together we looked, how intertwined, how on our way to love.
i told her about your soft eyes + your demons.
you know, there was a time not so long ago i stood in front of a man + asked, ‘how small do you want me?’ after that, i swore i would never destroy or betray myself for anything or anyone ever again. i view that moment as one of my greatest sins in this life.
even still, i miss you.
i liked being your girl. i liked sleeping with you but even more so, i loved to wake up with you. i used to think i was dreaming when you’d wash the dishes singing old country songs after breakfast.
i wanted to tell the world about you + keep you a secret all at the same time. i would whisper your name into the wind.
i don’t know why things happen, i don’t know if there’s a reason for it.
i don’t know why hearts mend to break again or why you couldn’t be the man i deserved.
i don’t know why you couldn’t keep your promises or if you ever meant anything you said. i don’t know why i am here writing to you tonight.
but I do know that god has a plan + if the devil were ever to meet me, he’d kiss my eyes + repent.
i think our souls were forged in the same fire, i think if it's meant to be it will be. but mostly, i think i was falling in love with you.
and if it means anything at all - i think you’re the cruelest thing that has ever kissed me with open eyes.
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 11:02 AM UTC
i can not relate to people who put gum under tables i have nothing in common with people who put gum underneath tables
i honestly find it difficult to accept the humanity of these type’s of people
my goal in life is to be so completely myself that everyone else feels safe to be themselves around me
for better or for worse i suppose
i had breakfast so naturally i am now immune to my pain, my sickness, the fear of death, heartbreak, uncontrolled mood swings + crying
i lose myself and find myself again + again over + over
i miss you, i want you to **** me + teach me things about myself that i haven’t yet discovered
i hate you, i want you to take me to the coast on your motorcycle + wrap your strong arm around my leg
i’ll take a bath + watch as my anger slides through the water
why can’t you be like me + love life, even with clenched fists
Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 11:21 PM UTC
this romance is not the same as the others, it is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand out stretched but instead two hearts set ablaze + souls enchanted - it made me greedy for witness. funny how that can happen isn’t it. come look at this person + see what i see.
but sometimes they can’t see it themselves. and some people are both the storm + the stillness that follows it, both the wound + the knife.
love is not a weakness but a mirror that shows you what your heart bows to. these vessels are fleeting + finite with each breath bringing us closer to death. so I redirect my love into worship.
worship for myself, for my friends, for the late nights, the early mornings, the tree’s, the bodies of water, for the sunshine and the moonlight.
hell, perhaps even heartbreak can be a form of worship, because a prayer is anything you say on your knees.
i’m coming to terms with the cold fact that no matter what road i take, it will be both glorious + unbearable but the only error would be in not walking.
Nov 9, 2025
Nov 9, 2025 at 2:53 PM UTC
you are both the storm and the stillness that follows it.
both the wound + the knife.
what can not be said will be wept, and slept on + shouted + whispered.
sure i’m tough as nails but i’m built for breaking.
my anger is a demand for love, my hair is being pulled by the stars.
i watch as your eyes start turning black.
i wanted to let something better happen to me. i wanted it to be you. but who am i to refuse the gods. there is no prayer like desire.
Nov 6, 2025
Nov 6, 2025 at 1:03 AM UTC
this love is not a mouth thirsting nor an empty hand out stretched but instead a heart set ablaze + a soul enchanted. this love makes me greedy for witness, come look at this man + see his flaws + all. tell me you see what i see.
we are in the kitchen together, you’re singing country music whilst i cook. come and be with me as i chop the potato’s, no you can not help. this is an act of love. i care about you and im making us something to eat. tell me stories of your childhood as i fry this up. i am giving you this food because i can not give you the world but i would if i could. this is special. we are together in my kitchen + im falling for you. this love has softened me. it’s stored in late night conversations + did you eat yet? how is your foot today? heads on shoulders, mid day naps + morning coffee made just right. folded towels + the beds made already. this love scares me.
Nov 5, 2025
Nov 5, 2025 at 2:48 PM UTC
how we love is who we are and tonight, who we are is singing.
the city helps you forget most things but when you fly out to the coast, you remember
i do believe a sentence can be kind, no matter how much blood it takes to write it
and i do believe you saw that moth in your kitchen and thought of who would die next
i’m sliding up next to you, barefoot in a cowboy hat, you smell of mescal and uncertainty
i am the softest and most ruthless i have ever been
we’re told things of quality have no fear of time, you tell me i have no fear of anything
but actually, i am like other girls - i dream too much, i don’t write enough and i haven’t seen the sunrise in days
let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love —
let it be me
Apr 13, 2025
Apr 13, 2025 at 4:16 PM UTC
my flesh is a great poem, my eyes are a letter to the gods.
my fists clenched hold unbearable love.
my feet sore walk every parable ever told.
at night i sleep alone and uncomforted. in the mornings i awaken as new and fresh again.
my heart holds memories of all the people i have loved.
my spleen bleeds nightly from those who have wronged me. and my tongue so sharp it cuts those closest to me. i was born for soul crushing devotion. for an adventure so wild and free it can’t be named.
my dreams vivid and uncontrollable highlight all that lack's in me but what is life if not returning to yourself over and over again?
Apr 11, 2025
Apr 11, 2025 at 1:41 PM UTC
It is March and I am driving through the desert with you. You let me stop at the colourful rocks, abandon theme parks and fifties café.
You hold my hand the entire drive back to Los Angeles.
Maybe we don’t have to be good, maybe we don’t have to crawl on all fours repenting for our sins. Maybe survival is a form of rebellion.
Sometimes I think this life is purely payment for all the debts I owe. Sometimes I think if I sing the unsayable, I’ll open every window.
I promised I would bleed for better reasons this year. I’m always breaking promises even to myself.
You tell me you hate God, that you could never believe in anything.
But prayer is whatever you say on your knees. You're always on your knees.
One day perhaps years from now, perhaps months or even days you will feel me crawling into your mouth.
Because everything I do, I do to get more beautiful so you will want to love me in the cold and indoor morning.
Apr 2, 2025
Apr 2, 2025 at 11:53 PM UTC
i remember your aching hand as it ran down my spine
you said you loved me but i think that you lied
the worst fate i was ever dealt was choosing between what i knew and what i felt
Jan 29, 2025
Jan 29, 2025 at 11:58 PM UTC
Not everything is a poem. Not everything is a sign. Not everything is a metaphor.
Sometimes things just happen and there are no bodies to bury. Sometimes they were never there at all.
Jan 18, 2025
Jan 18, 2025 at 7:52 PM UTC