the finding of myself:
country music and gold jewelry
the color yellow, and God

I was 13 years old
One month and one day away from 14.
It was January 20, 2017.
I sat one seat to the right
of center stage center for the show
in my social studies class
My teacher sat on the left
sitting on a corner of her desk
We all looked up to the right towards the TV
I could see the tears in my teacher's eyes
I could feel them in mine.
That year we had learned about
George Washington, Alexander Hamilton
The Revolution
And somewhere, in that 13, almost 14, year old belly,
a revolution was stirring
and I became the opinionated girl in school
no one could shut me up
I am 17
One month and one day away from 18
I watched today, exactly four years later
Exactly 2 weeks after an attempted coup
Exactly 1 week after a second impeachment
tears welled in my eyes
for another reason
the end of an era,
the beginning of a new one,
The US Capitol getting it's color back
people seemed to breathe
for the first time in 4 years
I watched in awe
and what a relief it will be
to wake up tomorrow
in a brighter country.
knowing that democracy won
and that 13-
almost 14-
year old me,
would be beaming

what a relief it is
to see a woman
who wears my favorite shoes
walk into the office
of Madame Vice President

**** him
i wanna take
my own breath away

I spent too much time
wondering if he still loved me
That I forgot to ask
if I still did

i love myself
isn't that poetry
enough?

realizing that my first love
will not be my last
has been the most painful and beautiful experience
i've ever gone through

i will never
let you back in
or so i say
the truth is
no matter how much
i've grown stronger
and changed for the better
if you really wanted to
your curly hair
and silver fire eyes
could probably
steal
my
heart
right back
as if you had never
broken it 3 times over
in the first place

i dont have
much poetry in me today
just a deep exhaustion
a need to rest
and hope that someday
i may

i don't shatter anymore.
when i miss you,
i ache.

i speak in
hyperboles and metaphors
i guess that's why
it's so easy to break my heart
the way i care is too
figuratively literal

no matter how I deny it
there are some days
that I just need you
your arms, your face, your lips
to tell me that I'm strong
and that you believe in me

I am a writer, a poet.
thought sometimes,
the right words,
are as abundant as clouds
on a perfect summer day

some days
my exhaustion ruins deeper
than the very middle of my bones
and it's difficult
to remember how
to sing myself
to sleep

God your name
feels so foreign to write
those five letters once
told me what I thought my future would be.

I speak it as infrequently as possible,
nearly whispering it when I must.
As if, somehow, if I speak it too loudly,
I'll lose myself in it all over again.

The soap in my shower smells like you,
so I bought my own.
I was left wondering what you were doing,
at 4:36pm on a Sunday afternoon.

You favorite color appears
in the strangest places, unexpected.
I know it should go unnoticed,
why did you have to love such a bright color?

my body almost forgets what it feels like
to be loved by you
my lips almost forget the taste of you
and then it all rushes back

I like to think that my body
has forgotten you.
and how your hands fit
perfectly in the curve of my waist,
how you kissed my neck,
and right between my shoulder blades,
how you used to pick me up
and I'd wrap my legs around you,
how you whispered "i love you"
and my name sounded sacred on your tongue.
How you squeezed my hand rhythmically,
and I would make a game of copying it back.
How you showed me, in every way,
that I was your definition of perfect.
How you sang that I was the only girl
who keeps your planet green.
but it hasn't.
My body, my waist, my neck.
My heart, my mind, my soul.
I haven't forgotten
how it felt,
when you loved me.

beautiful girl,
relax your shoulders
unclench your fists.
let this one go

My biggest fear,
is that you will come back
on a day that I am too weak
to say no

your body was built
for many more
torrential downpours
than the rainstorms
you've endured
-dance in the rain

you felt
as if you were
nothing,
but look at you know...
you are everything, darling
you are everything
you've ever dreamt of being

tell me, lovey:
do you miss me?
don't lie.
I know you too well,
to be ignorant,
to your signs of untruthfulness
-i knew you better than myself

This is a love poem to myself
My eyes resemble the waves that crash upon the shores of my pupils, the white foam jagged edges cut into whatever it is that I happen to be looking at
My eyes reflect the storm that little sailor boys are warned about because I will take their ship and I will break it in half
My My eyes are the layers of the blue atmosphere above that holds launching rockets which carry history up to the moon
My eyes are beautiful
This is a poem of what society tells me not to tell myself
My hands are those of a creator, one that creates beauty itself from scrap paper and dried up glue sticks
My hands write poems that leave my pen dry of ink but full of meaning
My hands hold the world in their palms and map out the answers to the questions I ask
My hands are beautiful
This is a poem written in the first person because I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m beautiful except for myself
My scars are the notebook paper lines on which novels of strength are written
My scars show myself , and anyone else worthy of seeing them, that I am a warrior
My scars prove to me that, no matter how many times I’m told otherwise, I can heal and get through each moment
My scars are beautiful
This is a love poem because the only validation I need is from myself
My face owns the smile that Leonardo Da Vinci searched for to paint onto the Mona Lisa
My face is the subject of the marble sculptures that I craft in my own mind
My face is the line of symmetry in between “perfect” and “awe-inspiring” that the photoshop editors try to balance
This is a poem that some will call “Arrogance” but I will title “Reminder For When I Forget”
This is a reminder of my eyes, my hands, my scars, my face
This is a reminder that I am beautiful

You buy me six pink roses
When I buy you a red carnation
I chase the butterflies around as they go to my stomach
Stopping this frantic migration
You take my breath, I catch that, too
My own lungs can't even stand as a foundation
And when I am falling
Your hugs are a comforting sensation
And as I sit here in wonder
I come across a warm revelation
That I'm always playing catch
With you

Clumsy Love

It was clumsy the day they first met

A hot day in New York City, photography at a baseball game, purple hair, and overpriced lemonade. There was a 15 year-old girl and her friend, and there was a slight fangirl moment when meeting a 17 year old boy who was famous school-wide for his singing and acting. There was an exchange of names, a photograph, and a friendship.

It was clumsy the second day, too.

Persistently bought coffee from the little round shop with way too many sugar packets, a misguided museum employee, too much root beer, and pigeons that were startled by the boy yelling “44!”

The third day was no less clumsy.

There was a broadway show in Shubert Alley, an unknown desire, and a sleepless night for the boy, though the girl remained ignorant of his new-found crush. If only the girl knew that a year from now, a promposal would be reenacted, a first kiss would be given and taken, and “I love you” would be said. If only the boy knew that his “immature” desire would be replaced with love, and passion, and, well, her. If only they knew what would happen in the next 365 days.

It was clumsy that one night in the pool.

A sticky, humid heat in the air, string lights hung over head, four friends swimming in the girls pool, stars in the sky, and the boy, throwing the girl into the pool simply because he could. The girl loved him then, though she wouldn’t allow herself to think about it, so they remained as they were: friends.

It was clumsy that day in Hershey Park.

There were sharp turn on the Wild Mouse, a stranger met and then lost again, and the boy, who kept telling the girl of other boys who were staring at her. Maybe it was his secret way of telling her that he thinks she’s beautiful, but she never knew.

It was clumsy in the movie theater.

There was crab rangoon and smuggled sushi, an 11:00 movie about superheroes, and a returned wish to hold a girl’s hand, though the girl, somehow, remained oblivious still.

It was clumsy in September and November.

There was a girl with a broken heart, betrayal from the friends from New York, a different boy who was never meant to be, and the boy who was meant to be, listening to every word, watching every tear, and slowly, unknowingly, fixing her heart. Through three hourlong video calls, text messages, and abandoned lunch periods he loved her still, though he remained the friend that he knew she needed.

It was clumsy in December.

There was a realization of how much he meant to her, a lot of poems, a revelation of jealousy of the girl who was flirting with him, and a lot of tears. There was a still 15 year old girl and a now 18 year old boy, and she allowed herself to fall, in the clumsiest way possible, into him.

If was clumsy on Valentine's day.

There was a singing Valentine, as well as one with a bad pun, there was a comparison to a sister, there was a"Crazy Little Thing Called Love" and there was a hug. A question was asked that day "Does he like her?", But was disregarded with a shrug "He said she was like a sister, so I guess not". It stung her her heart just a little, but she accepted the hit that was unintentionally given. And clumsily, once again, she laughed and smiled, after all, he and to her.

If was clumsy at the cabaret Cafe.

There was some pie and ice cream, a song sung to her, though she only wished he meant it that way, a slippery cafeteria for and tights, a confession, and two questions. The confession being to him, that she was happy to know him, a question to her, does she like him, to which she lied "no", and when the question was returned, the boy avoided an answer when the girl returned a question.

It was clumsy the Monday afterwards.

It was clumsy when he wouldn't meet her eyes. She still can't explain how much that hurt her, it stabbed at her heart and caught in her throat. After all: her best friend didn't even want to look at her. Her heart was slippery and clumsy as it sunk towards her stomach. There were tears during first period, and a text after school from the girl who apologized for lying because she liked him after all, and was too afraid of rejection to tell him before, yet no confirmation came from him.

It was clumsy on March 3rd.

There were poems, missing heart beats, and grammar mistakes. There was relief and there was fear. There was nervousness for the next day, knees shaking, heart racing as she turned every corner, waiting to see his face.

It was clumsy on March 16th.

When she fell to the ground. There are six pink roses, a stuffed turtle named Cleopatra, and a PowerPoint slide with a pun. There was an expectation he had wished to live up to and there was success. She fell to the ground and feel into his arms and they both cried of happiness and shock.

It was clumsy on March 18th.

There were silent cellos, empty risers, a dark room and racing heartbeats. There were seven kisses before saying goodbye, they were her first. There were two definitions of perfect, coincidentally, there were also two names. There was a broken water bottle and a boy in a parking lot. There was a girl, now sixteen, and a boy, now eighteen, and they were talking in love in the dark.

It was clumsy on April 3rd.

There was a stairwell, a thought, a confession, and an "I love you" returned in the same breath of air held between them.

It was clumsy in the hammock.

There was an unbalanced swaying, a list of questions and answers, and a metaphor about falling.

It was clumsy at lunch.

There was an attempted hug, an accidental tackle, and a girl who tripped over her own feet.

It was clumsy yesterday, it is clumsy today, and it will be clumsy tomorrow.

There was New York City, coffee, Broadway in Shubert Alley, root beer, Hershey Park and movie theaters. There was a broken heart, video calls, realizations, poems, songs, and apple pie with ice cream. There were grammar mistakes, pink roses, turtles, teddy bears, silent cellos, risers, absent heartbeats, and stairwells. There was love unreturned from fear of rejection born from the roots of doubt. And then, there was love, and memories, and secrets. And they became them, and "us" was their new favorite word.

3/10/2019
Sometimes I doubt
The undoubtable things
As if the sky is never blue
And time is never passing
Like why does he care about me?
Why does he choose me over every other girl?
Why does he only ever see me in a crowd?
My hair isn’t long like them
And I don’t have scrunchies for him to hold
I don’t have the best body
I don’t have the right curves and edges
My eyes aren’t as bright blue as some
They don’t strike you like a lightning bolt
My words don’t make sense
They just swirl into incoherent tumbles
I don’t love myself or have an ounce of confidence
I walk around wishing to live as someone else
I don’t have the most optimistic mind
My will to live is lower than the rest
I’m almost never truly happy
And when I am, I’m terrified that it will shatter
I’ve never had someone feel the same back
Because I’ve simply never been good enough
And somehow, though I am convinced of very little
He sees me as enough
And I don’t understand
But I guess it helps that he understands me

I keep getting this feeling
That I'm just not enough
You say you love me
But, tell me, do you?

3/13/2019
I had a dream
A dream I never wanted to have
A dream about my dream boy
We stood there like we always did
And he wrapped his arms around me
He hugged me and I felt happy
One thousand thoughts rushed through my head
And they all collected to one
They swirled and mixed and blended together
Until I could no longer place one from two
And then I said without purpose
With all my thoughts inside my mind
“I love you”
He pulled away from the hug
And looked at me in the eyes
He looked at me as if I was a toddler
Not strong enough to know the truth
He looked at me as if I would break
And as if he would be the one to shatter me
He looked at me as if I were the one he couldn’t keep
And he said
“Let’s talk about love…
I don’t know if I love you
But I think it’s safe to stay with like.
Love is a lot, and I don’t love you.
Not like that, not yet”
My soul was crushed and I said
“Okay”
And turned to leave him there
I stopped a second and looked at him
And he wasn’t looking back
He was never looking back
And he never looked back
At me

Someone asked me
How I would describe
Your eyes
I looked at them
Without missing a beat
And said
"Enchanted moss
The kind of moss you would find in a fairy tale
The kind of moss that shimmers with gold and silver
The kind of moss that a fairy lives in once upon a time"
They looked at me with confusion
And they looked at me
Without missing a beat
And said
"Why would you compare them to dirt?
Just something you find on the ground
In a ***** forest of trees and branches?"
And so
Once again
Without missing a beat
I said to them
"Then I guess
you don't understand
How much I love him"

I just want to be good enough
Why is that so much to ask?
I just want to be good enough
Good enough for my parents
Grades and an older sister and a daughter
Even when I try my motivations is low
I just want to be good enough
Good enough for my boyfriend
Loving and caring and perfect
And I love him so much but I'm not enough
I just want to be good enough
Good enough for my friends
Honest and happy and good all the time
I want to be there for them but I can't
I just want to be good enough
Not the best
Not perfect
I just want to be good enough

We sat on the hammock for hours
And I laughed so hard I fell off
And as the balance was thrown to your side
You looked at me and said simply "I've fallen"

And I smiled at you as I sat on the ground
So I looked at your star-strung smile
And said to you with a genuine smile
I looked up and agreed: "Me too"

You looked at me once again
And with the universe in your eyes
You said to me as I sat on the ground
"But didn't I fall first?"

3/11/2019
Hold my hand
Holding a whisper against my palm
Tracing my life through your fingertips
Listening and hearing from the very beds of your nails
Keeping a secret wrapped around your fingers
Intertwined with the sweet company of your voice
Biting on my nails from the nerves of your touch
Nerve endings connect to reach a secret coded love story
The same love story I've dreamed of for years
The same love poem that I've written without your name
That now, I whisper without a doubt
That you hold my hand and I see you for the first time
One hundred days go by and you hold me closer still
Fingertips on my palm, following the lines of my doubt
And trace them right back to my heart
Where they dissipate with the will of your whispers
Unearth the broken secret that my hands hold
Erase the vestige of hesitancy in my voice
And sketch scars that line my wrist, writing a story between them
Silver fingertips that line my face and drum on my heart
The beating beats of bliss against my fingers
Brushing your thumb against the side of my hand
Soothing the rocking unrest inside of me
Your hands hold mine
And cradle my palm
And everything is okay

Well it has been
A while
And I'm still writing
Just haven't been able
To bring my heart
To admit what I'm actually feeling
Want to be the stronger part of me
And forget the side that cries
And breaks
And shatters and aches
But still
I live and I write
Mostly on paper
Revisiting a page from when I was still loved
And in love
But I'm here now
To admit what I'm doing
What I felt
How I feel
And how I fell
And picked myself back up again
So stay and listen
And I'll show you
What I've been up to

3/8/2019
I always thought that the idea of a summer kissed laugh
Was just the cliche used to everyone
I always thought that a snow-flurry smile
Was the epitome of a typical love story
I always thought that the effect of a sincere gaze
Was the basis of every romance novel
I always imagined that a soft warm hand to hold
Was the turning point of a classic love poem
I always believed that the weight of a soft-whispered word
Was the quintessential secret of forever
Until I met you
Then I heard your laugh
And the birds chirped through a July morning
Though it was snowing outside my window
Then I caught your smile
And realized that you were my love story
That I could read and still get hopeful butterflies from every word
Eventually I held your gaze
And realized that your silver-green fire eyes held a secret
That I want to look at every day
And when you caught my hand in yours
I held the softest whisper in my palm
As you traced my fingers and scars
When my ears finally heard my name
Your voice was the only thing that told me that I was myself
Because my name sounds so right when you say it
Because you are your own poem
You are your own whisper
And your own promise
And your own secret
And your own forever
And you are mine

i cant express to you how much i wish you were here

if you were here right now

we would stare at the stars laying side by side

you would sing me a song

and i would be okay

if you were sitting next to me

you would have your hand around my hips

and your head on my shoulder

and you would call me beautiful

and i would believe you

if you were holding my hand right now

i would squeeze our palms together

and i would never let go even when you left

and the world would be full of poems you wrote

if you were holding me

you would kiss my lips

and see your eyes as they see mine for once

i would realize that i love you

though ive realized it dozens of times before

if you were here right now

i would kiss you and laugh

and tell you i love you

and hope that you would say the same

"I love you"
You breath it out between kisses
And I breath it in as I sigh the same words
"I love you"
Returning every word you say to me
Sometimes I try to say
"I love you" first
Before you get the chance
Just to show you how much
"I love you"
Play with my hair before settling on my cheek
Shifting your focus to my eyes, which are focused,always, on you
"I love you"
I whisper the words I've never said in this way
And you smile, one side more than the other
"I love you"
And my heart has melted into you
As you hold me closer still
"I love you"

I love you like, I just, I love you
I love you like the sunrise
A new light every morning playing on my eyes
Shimmering cliches that make sense in the stars
The faded grey-black of the sky to a brilliant pink-blue
I love you like the ocean
The beauty that rides in the translucent waves
Sea-foam stories told by the salt-stained wind
The lurking threat of the unknown below I love you still
I love you like an abandoned pirate ship
A ghost town of old treasures forgotten of and found again
The true lost and found of secrets, memories, and stories
A treasure map that holds traps to capture my breath
I love you like a butterfly garden
The intensely building beauty that balances on their wings
And the delicate migration across my eyelids
That in it's own beautiful way, is terrifying
I love you like
A butterfly garden that stands upon an abandoned pirate ship
In a wave-filled ocean at sunrise
I love you like everything beautiful
And everything terrifying
I love you like you love me

Whenever I picture him
He's laughing
And it hurts me beyond belief
That he ever does anything but that

I've written so many words
To you
About you
Around you
Yet nothing seems  enough
To show you
To love you
To tell you
Just how much I care

3/18/2019
I don't know what I'm saying
This is a foreign language
It balances on the tip of my tongue
And crawls around the roof of my mouth
This is a romance language more romantic than
Spanish, or French, or Italian
This accent is startling but softer still I whisper
As you murmur sweet pieces of everything into my ear
You seem to be fluent in this language
As if love was your first spoken tongue
While I stumble over the words unable to say a simple phrase
The phrase unspoken for fear of mispronunciation
Because it's so easy to say wrong
Because vulnerability is another dialect I do not speak
Though it flows off of your tongue so easily
As if your teeth are sure of where they land
And your lips form the words that I need to hear
Even though I never knew I needed to hear them
This language that I don't speak
Comes from a country where the most beautiful people live
Where the happiest of smiles look up to the sky
Where the hearts are pure and simple and loving
But I do not come from that country
And my passport was brand new and unused
I have learned to live by myself on my own island of walls
The walls I build to keep out those who care
For I might hurt them if they came in
But you speak words that fill the cracks
And the love you give expands and breaks the wall
And you teach me this language I don't quite understand why
But you make sure that I know myself
Before I know you
Or the language
Or the world around me
You flew me to that country on an airplane made of the clouds themselves
And taught me this language that I will never forget
This language of love and happiness
This language of you and me
This language of the world as it should be

There's something about the way
Lemon ginger tea
Plays on my tongue and lips
With spice and sweetness
That reminds me of your kiss

if i were to **** myself
it wouldn't be a surprise to anyone
since i'm told to all the time
the people who tried to help me out of this
will cry tears though there are few of them
let them be happy soon hereafter
the people who demanded my blades to my wrist
will smile down upon my blood-drained body
let them be victorious in themselves
the people who didn't know me
will see me as a number in the statistics
let them do powerpoint presentations on my pain
let the people of the world forget i existed
let the people of my world remember my name
let the people who i loved be free
let them