And tomorrow
when you wake up
do not be afraid
to embrace the
empty side of your bed
and tell your heart
there are greater wars
to be won.

She was the kind of girl who believed in true love.
She believed in the fairy tales.
She wanted to believe that was enough.
She just wanted to get out of this jail.

She wasn’t pretty.
She was magical.
She had the heart of the city.
She was angelical.

But her mind was dark.
She would sit in the park.
Watch the little kids go by
Wondering why.

She was a little girl who grew up too fast.
She lost her innocence when she was only five.
When she cried, it was the last.
It was the water, where she dived.

She would hold her breath.
Open her eyes.
See a flash of death.
And in her heart, she dies.

She grasped for air.
This life wasn’t fair.
And yet for some reason she cared.
She was so unprepared.

She wrapped her arms around herself.
As she put her mind back on the self.
In the depths of her mind.
She was undefined.

They say
You should start moving on
You are hurting yourself
Waiting for something
That is not going to happen
They say

I want to turn off the sound of the world
Too loud
Too much
Too hurtful
I feel how I am breaking
Is this what love is supposed to be?

Move on
Move on
They keep saying
I am a prisoner to my own thoughts
To their words
A circus

Here I am
With words of the others in my head
“Move on, there is no point in waiting.”

Here I am
Sitting next to the love of my life
Waiting for him to wake up








Or to keep sleeping for eternity


-how I would feel if I were her

10 failed poems later
I go running to free verse
whose arms are always open
in welcome, in acceptance,
unconditional and forgiving.

Perhaps a little cocky,
it frees me from the ropes
of syllables and meter,
allowing me space
to build, shape, and tie
my poem together
as if doing me
a favour.

I remember the first and last time I cried my soul out for you.
It was as if something inside of me
Died in that very moment

It was
When everything I have put effort in
For us
Broke into thousands of pieces
And you could not put them back together anymore
Not without slicing your everything open
That day
When i cried because of you
It was indeed
As if something in me died

And I did not want to admit it
But it was you inside of me
Dying that day


~ the first and last time I cried my soul out for you

We’ll meet again some day, once again as strangers.
We might talk for a bit,
maybe even pretend like we don’t remember what happened.
Maybe we’ll run into each other in a coffee shop,
you with your new love and me with mine.
We’ll act like old friends should,
but your familiar face won't carry familiar feelings.
To know I've been replaced is disheartening.
To think about what we once were makes me wistful.
It’s even more sombering to think of what we are now, strangers.
How is it that someone who once meant so much can become nothing more than a stranger?
Emotions are now rendered into nothing but memories.
Memories are now distorted from hopeful wishes.
Hopeful wishes are now abandoned like a coin into a wishing well.
Yet even after everything that happened,
I can’t help but hope that somewhere, somehow,
We’ll meet again some day, once again as strangers.

I feel like my inspiration to write is dying
the less I am crying at night
I know this probably doesn't sound right
but I can't shake this lack of inspiration
the feeling of it dying
everyday and every night.

so comfortable in pain
that I'm uncomfortable in its absence.

I easily forget things
I can’t remember what I had to eat last
I can’t remember a lot of the past
My childhood was blurry because I was always in a hurry
I was always so busy running and playing tag, avoiding all my mother’s nagging

I don’t easily forget things
I can’t easily forget about people like yourself, your tongue, your teeth, your mouth
Fingertips and hands
Your hand in mine was the only sign I need
I’m so easy to read

I easily forget things
I can’t remember all of the songs I’ve heard
Can’t remember all I’ve learned
I can’t recall what I’m wearing
Ignore all the people staring

I don’t easily forget things
I don’t easily forget things like your smile, your eyes, your hair
How when I wake up in the morning, you’re not there

I easily forget things
Who I am, what I am
What I can do, what I can’t

But I can’t forget you