your vase is not too much for the teacup in their hand.

Unrelatedly,
I’ve lost my appetite.

We built
a tower
with hands
that did not know
how to touch.

It rose,
stone by stone.
Each word, a brick.
Each silence,
the mortar.
Promises—
vanishing into air.

We stood
at the bottom,
blaming the height
for our aches—
but the tower
was never
what broke us.

I only just realized
what joy can be—
It is a small thing,
I think,

In the back office
at the bank,
If you leave the chair canted
towards the south window,
the sun will warm the small
blue seat around 11:45

It has always been
such an inconsequential thing to me
always out of reach—

But it’s there,
A quarter before noon
every day.

Dude, do you realize that you used the word dude
like three times in the same sentence, dude.

who does that?

You saw it coming,
you knew it
I had my chance,
I blew it
You held my hand
We walked to the edge

I couldn’t jump

When a black sheet has been
thrown over the moon
and a million lazy stars
have fallen from view
I hear the wind has
grown tired of traveling
I hear the sound of mandolins
crying in the mountains
I hear the rattle of
gypsy wheels
I hear the heavy hearts
of horses upon the
restless roads of
broken poetry ...
Clay.M

just a girl with some demons
but they don't define her
Because sometimes she skips instead of walks
sometimes she laughs for no reason
sometimes she tells stupid jokes
sometimes she loves so hard it hurts
sometimes she purposely avoids her reflection
sometimes she sings at the top of her lungs
and she loves her brothers and sisters and friends
and sometimes she cries herself to sleep
and sometimes she complains about nothing
and she writes bad poetry
and she spends hours inside a book
and sometimes she questions everything
but she's just a girl

last week
I grew out my nails
and then you screamed at me
and I dug them into my palm
until it bled
What did that accomplish?
Nothing.