you wear and break me down,
like your favorite pair of shoes,
running through the mud,
in a race you’ll always lose,
as dusk falls and you're on the chase
I will be the one who always gets a taste,
and as your soft strides clap
against the ground,
It is always me that you are putting down,
one step farther-
it's suddenly so clear to me.
Your favorite shoes are not the ones
on your feet
They are the ones that are never worn, but somehow always showed off.
The ones in your closet, that never come out of the box.
They have never felt pavement or grass
They have never felt free
And in all the ways I’ve been yours,
I still wish that was me.
I wish I was the one caged up if that’s what it means to be loved.
Instead of the one slammed to the ground with every lunge.
While your real favorite shoes, wish to be me, worn to their soles, but feeling the breeze.
To be used is not to be loved; but to be loved is to be used
And how sad must I be to compare myself to shoes?

why does time freeze
at the age of seventeen
and instead of resuming
you just wake up at 23
wondering how six years
passed in one night
and when you gave up
on all your big dreams
the way adults do it’s just
what we do
we give up and we complain
and we’re so good at dancing
with disdain but at
17 I had some soul left
and something to give
I wonder where it went and if
simply being alive is
all it takes to live?

There is something so human about looking in the mirror
Poking and prodding at every detail trying to figure out how other people see you
There is something so human about crying yourself to sleep
And hating when you can’t sleep and can only cry
Or waking up early to the sunlight laying on top of you making a pattern of your bedroom floor,
The early morning glow makes you smile to yourself
And you never notice;

You never notice all of the little beautiful parts of being a person
That you may never get to experience again
The way that people look at you when you’re not looking
The moments of remembering who you used to be and realizing that it isn’t you anymore
Your favorite jeans ripping or not fitting and being so angry because you don’t think you’ll ever find another pair of jeans that fit that good
Realizing you haven’t associated him with that song in years,
Realizing you haven’t thought of him in years.
Wondering if your parents would be proud.
Being sad if they wouldn’t be.
That feeling makes you want to try harder- be better.
The human experience is so surreal and so slow and sticky and sad but it’s so bright and warm and beautiful like a summer sky or dew soaked grass in the early dawn
There is so much beauty and pain and love and hate that comes with being a person
There is so many feelings you don’t even realize
There is not just happy and sad and angry
There is the feeling of a Tuesday afternoon when you realize you have hope for the first time in years
The feeling of a clean kitchen after procrastinating dishes for weeks
The feeling of a scalding hot shower in the winter and a freezing cold shower in the summer
That park you dream about even though you only went once
The smells that bring back memories
Sunscreen and Victoria’s Secret perfume and there is just something about pine that brings it all back
You take advantage of this life you were gifted simply because you don’t remember asking for it,
But you did,
You begged to feel everything fully even if sometimes it hurts
You begged to see it all in 3D and experience it all inside of the vessel that is your body and here you are, with everything you ever wanted — and you are crying over jeans that don’t fit
And I am not mad at you for it
It’s part of the experience
But someone has to tell you
There are a million jeans that will fit better
A million smiles that’ll spark a fire
A million memories built up inside of you, that only you know,
And a million reasons why
The human experience
Is what we’re all chasing
And running from
And that is what we all share
That makes us so human.

I use up all the space in my head
wondering what’s going on in yours
and I spend my days on my knees
praying to the lord
and I may not have believed in God
before I met you
But I keep hoping if I beg enough
he’ll have to let me through
I don’t know anyone else who
could change your mind
So I hope God will call on you to
give this another try
And I imagine how insane you’d find me
If you knew the things inside my brain
So I spend my time hoping maybe you’d do the same
If I imagine your name enough it’ll just have to manifest
So I never let my phone die just in case you text
It hurts too much to believe that you weren’t who you said
So just say anything and we can do it all again

And they say God doesn’t talk back but he used to send me signs
And this week he’s being quiet so I’m starting to lose my mind
Because if God is saying it’s over and I still don’t believe it-
Will I ever stop living at your convenience?
If all the space in my mind is reserved for you
Will the pieces left of me disappear too?
And how is that you don’t care at all?
When I’ve become religious just hoping that you’ll call.
Am I really as stupid as I thought?
I guess if I was smart
I’d know how to move on
I guess if I was smart
I’d know how to forget
instead of sitting around
wanting to do it again.
But if we tried one more time
I wonder if I’d notice?
The exact moment where
I started to blow it
I wonder if I could pinpoint
The last message you sent
Where you truly liked me
And it wasn’t in my head.
I wonder if I could save this
Or make you want to fight
And even if I couldn’t
I’d still be willing to pay the price.

But maybe I’m not smart
Maybe I’m not slick
But I promise if you text me
I’ll ******* act like it.

I wonder if she’d love
me more if she knew I was
a poet and I wrote sonnets
about the way her lips curve
like the bow used by Cupid himself
I wonder if she’d love me more
if I wrote haikus about the way
her body looks like a dream I had
where I felt like I was at home I wonder
if she’d love me more if I told her
she makes me feel what can only be described
as a dark sky opening up into sun
in a single instant and
warmth encompassing the earth
seconds before it froze over
An ode to her laugh and
every song she sings in the shower
A ballad for every time she was hurt
and I wasn’t there to hold her I’d
write about her for years and never
be able to capture her beauty
in any language
because something
tells me
it will always come down to the
same three words.

the slow burn of august. the comfort of sleeves that are too long. the itch of winter, spreading too quickly. the clothes on my bedroom floor. the dishes in my sink. the look in my eyes i wonder if any one else can see.
it’s like a dream where
all your screams come out as whispers,
and nobody is standing close enough to hear.

or maybe
a nightmare where they hear you perfectly,
but pretend that they can’t.

i wonder
which is worse.

People communicate too much.
Their arms, their feet, their eyes, their hands.
Each one tells a story.
Each one differs, interfering and weighing the air down.
Then the mouth opens and words fly out,
A whirlwind of ideas, opinions, tumbling, spinning, whipping out.
So much noise.
A message here, a message there.
The noise is blinding.

Outside the garden is buzzing.
Not the droning buzz of conversation,
But the peaceful hum and sigh of nature.
The leaves wave as you walk.
Flower petals whisper to you, succinct words that don't rattle.
Ladybirds, bumblebees, humming birds hurtle and whisk around,
And best of all, the garden listens.