What they don't tell you about love
(before you fall in, of course)
is that no metal on earth
is stronger than it

So you can weld yourself together,
using heat from others,
piecing whatever steel you force your heart to become
to cope with a loss,
but the loss still won.

taught to articulate concisely
to breathe fresh air, easily
but plagued with pollution
from corporate illusion
i refuse to stay still
in the sprout of a revolution
so I am letting go
of what smog still resides
what does not fuel my insides
this is goodbye,
to everything I have that I do not need,
and a hello
to me

Elevation decorated with hues of green, shades of blue
Shapes and sounds that ground the climbers on the mountain

Inside the hardened lungs of the hikers among
is the newest, freshest air
The river that courses through each dip in the Earth
carries sediment as it sculpts
It bends and it breaks the ground that held it in place
it creates a new path to call it's own
It made a new place to call home

Elevation decorated with crinkled water bottles,
elevation drowning in bug spray
elevation soaked from the sweat that rolls off
the bodies of those who finally reach the top

There at the top, elevation and she coexist
Together, they are in rhythm
They breathe in for four, they take in some more,
they exhale the world left below them

This is my body
Size 12, wiggle room
Jiggly thighs, 5’2
(And a quarter. It matters)
Overgrown roots blend
Into DIY blonde,
Somewhere in between
“Well kept” and “definitely depressed”
Acne scars, decently white teeth
Scar on my brow from that time I tried
Rollerblading into the sun, I swallowed the pavement on the way down. You can still see the cracks in my teeth, just underneath my laugh lines. I always tried to stay as positive as possible. No matter what.

This is my body, it holds memories like water weight.
Destined to burst, void of drains,
Man Made pores- formed from the inside out by cries for help that never surfaced.
Porous and calloused, found out that its purpose for a year straight was simply surviving.

This is my body. Flashbacks on a marquee, survivor’s hands painted nicely, so no one ever asked me why they were so *****, and broken, and ******.

This is my body
His dead skin under my nails,
Petrified.
Proof of a fight. scars on my arms
North of my elbow: survivor’s guilt in the shape of a Star, I spent last summer wishing night after night I wasn’t alive- I was so tired from pretending.

This is my body.
Latches like a leech to anything warm.
****** dry all of my loved ones in the year I spent spiraling,
searching for solace or sanity-
even safety. Found nothing but panic.
Nervous bird in a cage.
Narrow shoulders.
Boxer’s stance.
Dancing on the front line where I should have been to fight
Using my fists never worked.  
Neither did screaming “no, no, no”
Present until that very day. And now I lay silent.
Absent like a soldier, staring into space.
Trying to make sense of the shaking.


This is my body.
I have my mother’s eyes, her mother’s brain.
Black and white, strict like law,
Cemented in place for weeks at a time,
Then Moving at the speed of light, I cannot stop or I will die.
Creaky chest upside down, my stomach clings to my ribs.
Stand still until the room stops spinning
Or until my head stops hurting
And my legs stop shaking
And you stop when I ask you to stop
“This is my body” I whisper behind your hands as you steal all autonomy
I am left with nothing


This is my body.
He took it from me,
Did not even have to try to ruin my insides,
Did not blink an eye in the year I spent unraveling in front of everyone I loved,
Pulled out every lash I had, lost my job because of panic attacks,
But I am commanding it back.
I spent the last 6 months building from the ground up.
Spent the last 12 taking up the space I did not before.
The last 3 learning that it’s okay to.
I stopped apologizing in January.
I started yelling again in February.
It took that long to think anyone would ever hear me,
No one ever had.
This year I took my body back.
This is my body. Size 12, 5’2. Wiggle room.
Sometimes it can’t breathe right and shuts down in big crowds.
But this is my body and it is big and it is loud.
It takes up space, it is strong, it is pretty.
This is my body and for absolutely none if it, am I sorry.
Not a single part.

The times last year
you stole my body
I remember vividly
As that day grows near
I feel hatred growing in me
Something I have not felt
For anyone but myself
In the longest time
I wish I could show you
What your theft left me with
Or go back in time and
Lock the door though
you climbed through the window

Did you think I would have let you in?

Your confidence smelled
Of Cologne mixed with power
Your alpha hands grabbed my waist
And I have thrown up every day
Remembering how you called me names
For telling you to stay the **** away

I still see it sometimes and I hate that
No one, not even the witness believed me
I have yet to fill what you dug when you stole my body from me

my love was sugar
in your tea but you preferred it black
it never stayed hot very long  
you left it on the burner regardless

my love was a mess
in your home I was scattered shoes and broken glass
I asked for time to plan out my escape
but you held the door open for me

my love wore white instead of red
it did not hold hands or smoke cigarettes
I stayed about the surface for most of our time
because I was scared of not doing it right

my love was an open home
empty hallways for strangers to rome
a place to lay their head or put up their feet
it was a soup kitchen for those who were hungry


and I starved myself to keep them full

My second first love
won't be so rough,
well it might be
but it won't be so bitter.

My second first love
won't be so hard,
well it could be,
it is love after all,
but it won't be the same as before
where we fought about who hated themselves more

My second first love
won't be so hurtful
because it will be true
it will be kind, patient,
understanding and soft

My second first love won't be so hard to lose,
because it won't be with someone who leaves as they choose.

My second first love will be with myself.
before I ever offer my heart to someone else who could break it,
I want to make it hard, make sure it's reachable but not breakable.

My second first love won't be scary,
It won't be jealous or insecure.
I want to make sure I love myself harder than anything else,
so my third first love feels like nothing else has felt.

Nausea dances in my veins
Flirting with my stomach acid
He paces making rhythmic motions
In a strong gut once so placid

But he's strong willed and determined
He won't go down without a fight
Insides feel uneasy now
I felt a sense he just wasn't the same tonight


And then I saw you and it made sense
My heart sank into lakes of acid, waves of terror
My veins cut off all paths that lead them there too.
My brain fell straight down like molten memories
My body was not ready to see you.
And I'm nauseous.

never meant to feel this way
though I knew this day would come
it looked like cookie dough and fuzzy socks
not bleeding knuckles or holes in walls
bed ridden for weeks and dehydrated veins
i never meant to feel this way
i never thought love could hurt this bad
especially after the superpowers i once had

The next time you miss him,
or want to take him back,
look down at the scars on your arm,
and remember that he will always be a part of
who you are

What do you miss more?
Gaslighting so strong you shook yourself to sleep and let exhaustion run so deeply in your veins you're tired a whole year later?
Or the nights he kept you awake just to argue and bring to attention every flaw you've ever had and how you were so unlovable he'd be the only person to ever tolerate you?

Next time you miss him,
Look down at the scars on your arm
And remind yourself
you don't need to be tolerated
you are art

I guess I'm just tired
I spent all this time
Thinking I was healing
But In fact I was concealing
The fact that I still in love you
And even one year later when you sent me
An empty  apology that projected more blame on me, I accepted it and took the blame and used it to cool my burning body
And I have been hiding behind anger
Masked by nicotine and kerosene
To make myself believe
You aren't the person I thought I'd marry
And that forgiving you didn't destroy me

Night shifts are quiet
my mind is loud
it screams things at me
from all around the building
like how you left
and how you did it easily
how you walked away
without thinking of me
I swept and mopped
a hundred times
to clear the floor
of the stains left behind
I tried the same with my brain
and ended up jaded
saying your name
I wonder when this will subside
the rush in my veins every time
I see you come inside
just for a coffee
a quick pick-me-up
that's all I was, too,
you filled up your cup,
extra sugar to mask the taste
now I'm just stuck

you know I ain't no good
I mix my liquor and my meds
I take a new boy to bed
each night, but you don't judge me
you know I ain't no good
but you see me differently
and I need that reassurance
to keep me grounded lately,
I need that reassurance
that maybe I ain't so crazy

You don't have to prove anything
to anyone
Especially people who didn't wash the blood off your hands,
Especially those who didn't hold you while you shook so hard you rattled your brain,
You actually rattled your brain,
You don't have to remember
or explain what happened to strangers
whose eyes penetrate your shirt
To see the scars that seep through the white
you owe a reason to no one for why you don't like to fight or speak in front of people
They weren't there when you had to shave your head because it was falling out anyway
They weren't there when you threw away your last needle,
so **** them

my brain
is soft,
I let you in

watching car wrecks like fireflies
on your tight suburban street
smashing sounds
reverberate through
the trees,

I catch them with my teeth
I hold them in my jaw

and still feel nothing
I crave to be
the engine charred
sprinkled on the crosswalk
smeared across the asphalt
burning bright enough for someone
to notice me

Tell me what it’s like to fall out of love
So beautifully and with ease,
You walked away, me still on the street
And still managed to make it look like art,
Our love was never movie-like but the ending was,
Alone and grey on the pavement, begging for your patience
So I could prove to you one more time that I was worthy of being with
But you never wanted to hear it

I wouldn’t recognize you now
With that frown about your mouth
You never wore that wretched thing whenever I was around,
I never smiled as big as I do now, though
When you were before me,
casting shadows
Do you think I’m a fool?
I won’t lay down and crawl back to you

I am still sorry
More than yesterday
Have not washed my hair because
it still smells like the last night we shared
together in your bed
I cannot wrap my head around it yet

I kissed every inch of your body this morning, except for your mouth.
We created boundaries, to keep us from hurting.
I waited until I got into the car to start crying
so you would not have to watch me understand, again,
what I was losing.
I saw my pain in your eyes,
we spent the weekend trying to undo the hurt,
It didn't work.

I was born in the Autumn,
on a brisk orange morning,
early October,
before it turns grey,
but after the crimsons have gone away
52 degrees,
leaves already fallen and
wet beneath our feet

I was born in the fall,
it's no surprise I feel this way,
everything that gives me life
someday will die

one day his words won't feel like knives
or stomach bugs, or shards of ice

one day his words won't haunt your dreams
or show up in once-happy memories

one day he won't be able to wrap his hands around you
even from a thousand miles away, when you've moved
to another state just to get him out of your brain,
wracking it for a thought that wasn't daunting,
didn't remind you every name he used,
one day he won't be able to

and it will be great,
I promise you

one time
in your best friend's basement
you told me that you never wanted to love anyone the
way you loved me
and I haven't heard a word
the same way
from anyone
since

I must sound
Like a chocolate wrapper
Crumbled up with cliche intentions
But oh, the sun is so healing on Saturdays
The weekend's bounty fueled by her light
My glacierlungs start to melt
I feel alright
On the train
To see my best friend
Soaking it all in
Finally unbroken
75 degrees in February
Never felt so incredible
I don't feel terrible
Anymore
I must sound so redundant
But you would play the same song 100
Times a day if it made you feel alive,
Wouldn't you?

cut me open with a sharp knife
so i know you don't have to try
like the others did, they'd pry
forgetting dull  takeweapons more time
and leave a darker scar, it's hard
they have to break past
everything you built to last
like layers of copper skin from years of solitude
use a sharp knife when you open me up for you

50 hearts bleeding on the floor,
blood that is thickened with hatred,
it seems as soon as we are born,
our cords are cut and replaced,
into our veins,
they instill hate,
slowing our hearbeat quickly,
as we grow up,
the bitterness trumps,
we lose what was born,
to a gun,
our hearts ache for those that were slain,
the community will not be the same without you.

I wish I could scrub my veins clean
of the tar and memories
I would scrape the sides clear
of everything you whispered in my ear
all lies, cliche
I hate feeling this way

I had to watch a couple of ****** romantic comedies to see how ****** up you and I were. I had to listen to Maroon 5’s entire discography before I got over you. I came and cried right after 23 times before I stopped thinking of you during *** or as I was pleasuring myself but it only took 23 times.












We were chaotic and I will remember dancing with you on the deck after the rain; I will remember you covering my mouth at 2:31am because my laugh was always, always loud and our roommates were sleeping; I will remember us in rose, the things no one but us knows; I will remember the nights you sat me down and listened as I cried. And I will remember the nights you did not. I will remember our first kiss on a stranger’s couch, and our last in my new bed, 4 months after I moved out. I will remember bending over the bathroom sink at work the day I found out you lied to me, begging god to give me my breath back.















I will remember taking god for granted every minute until I needed him to breathe that night. I will remember you telling me you loved me for the first time, and I will remember the last. I won’t remember you in vain, with anger, with sadness. I will remember you and I for what we were. Rushed. Patient. Crazy. Unsteady, exciting. Happy. In love. Over.

We ate off paper plates.
God, we were a mess,
we nourished ourselves with
disposable trays,
to leave less of a mess.

We slept on paper beds,
just incase we fought again,
what a waste it would have been,
to have bought a brand new set,
only to end up sleeping in separate rooms,
on the floor again.

We conquered paper mountains,
they didn't bend, they didn't break,
they ripped beneath our heavy feet,
and we let them because we were too defeated.

Together we made a world of paper,
that's why I'm gone from yours now,
you held me for three years,
but three years of paper burns in 10 minutes if you let it.

And that's why you're still in mine,
I never took you out,
I never had the heart to take the time
to set you on fire,
and now you're stuck here.

I eat off paper plates now,
hoping one day you'll get hungry again too,
and we can build a world again,
temporarly, disposable, as long as it's with you.

I comb the room for proof of you
Gaze toward lovers old and new
None of them ring a bell,
I feel alone but I feel well

Peace is no option,
hate sowed in every row of land
from coast to coast,
they stole everything but the sea.
A country founded on thievery,
an empire, starving for conquests,
a people that are nourished by exploitation,
the blood of minorities waters roots placed deep,
The stark white flowers turn pink in their petals.

And we admire their beauty.

Hatred walks with a rifle,
so peace is no option.
He does not have a weapon,
that could do any harm,
without a heart full of hate behind it.
Driven by fear,
fueled by confusion,
a bullet flies blindly.

The man who creates is not a criminal,
but is he who follows a path shaped by fire,
burning the colors that lived there before.
The man who believes in soverignty of his country,
at the cost of another.
The man who believes love could cause harm,
armed with a poisonous thought.

The barrel is only a conduit;
so shoot the palette,
splatter the colors,
our sisters and brothers,
alike they lay in one silent painting;
the white canvas will always stay
as clean as they say.it should.

Peace is no option,
when war is a game,
painting with blood
since the very first day.

I ran out of things to write about the same day I ran out of almond milk, and I thought, well man, now I'm ******.
My cereal was dry and my hands were shaking as I tried to put into words how you made me feel dead for three years but how I thought that was living. My cereal was dry and I tried to make sense of all the ways you stole from my bounty and painted me as a thief. My cereal was dry and I still blamed myself for you leaving.

People ask me what went wrong,
And I can't tell them because I don't know.
One day I was crying because you weren't next to me, the day before you told me I was the reason you were falling apart so I spent 6 months trying to put you back together and the last three sitting in my kitchen eating lucky charms out of the box with my hands and trying to piece back together what you left, my cereal was dry and I still don't know quite where we went wrong. But oh,god am I sick of answering when people ask if you ever hit me.

You didn't have to.
Your condescending attitude left bruises I still ice on nights when I wish you had hit me instead. At least those wounds heal and don't resurface every time I hear one of the thousands of songs we listened to in three years.

I lost my whole music library when I lost you and someone once told me that the love of your life comes after the mistake of your life but never told me how to heal from the former or what to do when you realize they never had to.

My cereal was dry and I've been sitting here for 10 months now wondering what to say to people when they ask what happened. I didn't know back then and I fear I never will. My cereal is dry and I'm just sitting still.

The last time they fought
he told her that her ego ran her life
maybe he was right.

Was her mind too much
and that is why she hides
it away in a cage so no one else can
but still she craves the light so
she spends her time looking good in every one
forgetting to nourish her mind.

That is not the girl I know
faux passions
dragging out interactions for the sake of a boost
who knew she could turn out like this?
That is not the girl I know,
it is the girl he said she was,
and that is not the girl I loved.
I want her back, please.

The part I hate the most about this feeling
is that it doesn't look pretty in paint
nor does it sound lovely in lyrics
it doesn't rectify the emptiness
when I pour myself into other people's cup
I fill them up to forget what I am full of
things I do not love
colors that do not transfer well onto paper
words that don't make sense
nothing about this comes together
in ways that can expand and commence
this feeling is not a pattern
this suffering is not art
you can't trace a deadly storm that you did not acknowledge
from the start

pretty
*******
sick
how
I
thought
of
you
when
I
thought
I
was
dying
but
you
never
thought
of
me
once
when
you
felt
alive

We fear love because we fear vulnerability and I understand this paradox is common. And I understand that my struggles are not unique but being rudimentary and predictable does not make the pain in my chest that tells the brain in my head to take a knife to my own skin every time I am alone in a room with white walls, ever go away. It tells me to paint and I tell it to shut up because at this age, no one cares how badly you want to hurt yourself because at this age, you should be asking for help, and at this age when you finally ask for help they tell you that you should have come sooner and that this age is a weird one to start talking about how you feed off validation from others the same way your extended family feeds off alcohol. You never let anyone in because it’s all your fault. And you know it, so you suffer alone and you refuse to face vulnerability with self love and trust because the last time you trusted someone they shred your insides to dust and you could not see straight for two years. Tell me, what do you fear? Liberation or self examination?

I want to see the west coast
feel ***** SanFran sidewalks on my feet
and redwood forest air inside me
I want to glide the coastline
and drink expensive smoothies
fall a few times surfing
and laugh until I'm hurting
I want to see the west coast
and forget about my worries
I know it sounds redundant
but California calls me
I want to see the redwoods
and look up and feel small
I want to know the desert
and meet a blonde haired boy
I crave the west coast breeze
the sand between my toes
there is something out there I am missing
what it is yet, I do not know

Let the leaves steep before you pluck them out
of the mug I never fixed from the first time we fought, about
I don't remember what, but I remember the way the warmth left my body
like I should have fled the house that night,
I remember it but those are different times.
Now, I fail at reiterating on emotions diffused into summer flights
anywhere but where I was staying, anywhere safe,
I landed not far away,
but hard enough to stay and that settlement will haunt my memories
until I can no longer,
still,
trace the patterns you made on my back,
with my own hands now.
Now, I cannot reiterate.
It might be worse than digging up a grave,
that closure that might have buried you under rubble,
and might have eliminated any chance at air,
so you sit on the floor and ask yourself how you let it happen,
again and again,
I cannot reiterate.
For it brings too much pain,
to remember how lightly you said my name,
and how heavy the blows were when you could not bear to say
anything,
anything is all I want to hear from you now,
but you're gone and I am still drinking tea,
gone bitter from the time gone by,
wondering how I let this happen, again.
I cannot reiterate the way that my soul fought for a shape,
after months of convincing myself I was useless,
like you swore.
I cannot reiterate the pain I felt when I loved you,
but I can promise.


I don't anymore.

Remember what I said last night?
Neither do I
I felt my belly, there was no kick
I had too much to drink
Left my feelings in the sink
In ugly bitter patterns
It's been 9 months
I still ache for this
What I'd be filled with
Nausea from a life
instead of a loss
If things worked out right

Remind me* what warm, sandy days in early July are like when the creases in my mattress make their mark on my skin so deep I forget how to stand up straight on my own. Remind me what 72 degrees at 50 miles per hour in my hair feels like when the shades will not open themselves and the piles of ***** dishes and wrinkled clothing have created their own escape route from my bedroom. Remind me what holding hands with someone who would rather hold your soul feels like when I crave human touch but shut out everyone that comes within a mile of my heart because I'm just so scared to break again. Remind me what hot chamomile tea on a dewey August morning tastes and smells like when I am buried in pillows and have my eyes glued to the computer screen because they're too tired to search for anything beautiful; they couldn't stand to see something beautiful anyway, because they'd deliver the message to their owner that what they see is that which she is not. Remind me what laughter, on a trampoline, at 2 in the morning, that makes my stomach hurt feels like when the nostalgia sinks deep into my skin and draws blood, and I feel as though things won't ever be as golden as they once were. So please, remind me that better days lie ahead. Remind me how it feels to work for something, to put your heart and soul into a work of art when I feel like my insides have collapsed because trial and error is my only experience with love and error seems to have ******* all hope. Remind me that it isn't me who is broken, that it is the world who needs my love and remind me that if I would stop giving up, that I could feel all of these things again. Remind me to get up and try, and try, and try again. Even when the white walls hurt my eyes and the blanket clings to my skin, remind me what it feels like to live. And don't let me lose that feeling again.

My red scars have been replaced
and now pink bug bites remain
I fill the dark with sunsets
from the top of the park where we laid.
But I did not think of you today.

My summer heart beats steady,
July winds lifts me up,
the grass underneath might leave little cuts.
But they leave room for me to breathe.

I watch the sunset every day,
I take in every color,
I stopped waiting on a call
from a past- life lover.
I do not miss you at all.

I lay in the light,
reds, oranges, sherbert pink skies,
my skin takes in all the earth gives,
The sky wraps itself in mid July,
ribbons for clouds decorate the sky,
I do not ache for you this time.

Instead I crave the palette,
the warm hues of summer scattered,
those colors fill me up
they remind me who I was
three years ago in June
before I lost it all to you.

My scars were replaced
by ugly, pink bug bites,
my heart was replaced
by warm, itchy nights.
But I wouldn't change a thing.
My soul is hung up on a string.
Out on display for the world to see,
finally.
And every night, while it dries,
I have a chance to bring to light
everything your winter nights
tried to hide.

I made scenes in my head in which I was stronger,
My words cut like knives and I was no longer afraid;
I had it all planned out, what I could have said 8 months ago
For now I keep it in because you don't deserve the energy,
but just know that you haven't beaten me;
Your insecurities brood like curdled milk and they surfaced in the summer; feeding off whatever looked your way, latching on to diminish the pain of your past.

I understand. You hate yourself so you hurt others.
Your suffering is not unique and your tactics are weak,
twenty one years old with a heart of pavement;
how does it feel to always be chasing something that you know you'll never find? you waste all of your energy trying to consume mine.

But I am up here, twenty years old and no longer full of fear,
you hate yourself and I see through it,
you burn your bridges so no one else can do it,
I don't sympathize as I won''t toast to that; another pill you'll slip me if I put my trust back,
but just know you're transparent, it's really embarrassing.

I could have said it months ago but no one else was listening.
I fought you back in my head and that's enough for me,
I don't have to win to feel undfeated

In school, I was always getting spoken to about the length of my sentences; I used semicolons more than anyone else my teacher had ever met and he always asked me why I didn't just end the sentence and begin again; I always told him that I was scared to end one if I wasn't sure it was finished yet; what if it wanted another chance? What if it was ready to start again? I wrote an essay in which the entire introduction was one long sentence, it went on for two pages and I had to rewrite it three times because it was not concise enough. I grew worried that I'd end up the same way the rest of my life; what if I was always too scared to end things because I wasn't sure if I would be able to start from scratch? What if I held on to one thing for too long and lost the chance of another one hatching and what if I never learned how to start fresh? I was always used to starting over, but it's different when you're older. You don't start over with the same white heart, you start over, carrying the bruises you got from fighting for years and you start over knowing that any move could be the one that ends your sentence and you start over knowing you're creating run-on after run on but you don't care as long as your words have somewhere safe to go; you don't care as long as they know they're welcome there, because god knows they weren't anywhere else.

low hum, cold rain
i take three extra pills to focus on anything
but you
and how i was so proud to show you off
i put you up on a shelf
made sure you never got *****,
i was so proud to call you mine,
to have something of my own
that i forgot to lock the door to my own home
and let everybody in,
and they took everything
i was so scatter brained with you
trying to make you happy
planning my next move,
i never paid attention to my own pieces
and now they're broken
and i don't even have the energy to put them back together
i was so proud to call you mine
when you barely knew you were half the time