I've been watching my whole life,
Observing it
From a distance, like a stranger.
I keep scratching
Trying to get in, to be seen
But I can't.
My fingernails scrape, tear
And bleed.
A sad attempt at being human but
This life doesn't belong to me,
Not really,
Not truly.

Love is a tidal wave
that one alone
cannot brave.

Unless it's a boat for two,
then the ocean is made
for the both of you.

he's quiet sometimes
but the silence he gives
is so extremely loud
the laughs he gives, they're
a gift only to the faces on the screen
he sees

but he doesn't see us anymore
the people who gave him his face
the people who hold out hope
he doesn't see his blood anymore
because we are his blood,
are we?

maybe he doesn't want to see his blood
because he's squeamish. maybe he doesn't
want to see his blood because he's afraid. maybe
he doesn't want to see his blood because we're
so unequivocally wrong and young and dumb
or old and too wise and clueless
maybe he just doesn't know
at all.

i certainly don't.

made-up words
bringing me joy when i press
the italics sign, writing my own stories
and building my own kingdoms
with the power of my keyboard

i don't need hammers
i don't need stone
i don't need a team of builders
i just need my pen
which is sharper than any sword

a zheshi is a girl
in this made-up language of mine
filling the rarefaction
of my motivation

Alone, in springtime, I cultivate my garden
***** my finger on a pink rose stem
a slight smudge of bright red blood
trickles to my palm
a blemish, no distress
resembles a red tattoo

I recall as a wee child
I would shriek at the glimpse of blood
time being I kiss the rose
grateful for its sugary fragrance
which edifies my spirit

Laughing
loving
hugging
kissing
dancing

Waking up without him,
in an apartment that still doesn’t
feel like mine has only gotten
harder.
Many of my days begin
with tears or a slight panic attack
just remembering I won’t
get to see him.

I never fell out of love.