I am not subtle
with what my words seem to hide
my face shows confidently,
see I wear my emotions on both inside and out.
feeling 10 times stronger than they should
with no hesitance shown
my words will never match with my face
because I am not subtle
although I try

They’ve said
If you write down
your problems
they might disappear ,
Wishful thinking
I tell you.
She writes
no one noticed
She screams
no one heard
She’s drowning
in herself
no one notice
her struggles
she feels like
she doesn’t belong
not a thing going her way
not a **** thing
She’s too full of life
too half live
She’s too full of love
to be half loved
Her heart fighting a raw pain
no one understand
no one even care to notice...
She’s an entire earthquake
confined in her own prison
of her skins
bones as bars
pretty flesh planted feet
waiting for someone to notice
the soil beneath her feet
is breaking...
Pretty face
so perfect in every way
yet no one notice
the sky above her head
is falling
no exit doors
nowhere to run
she can no longer hide
her pieces are falling
into darkness
though the lights are bright
within the dark roads
of a beautiful soul


Can you See her now ?

I am quiet.
Soft spoken.
A woman of few words.
My voice is still.
My mind is loud.
My thoughts generate words and meanings a million different ways.

“Think before you speak” they say. Probably why I don’t speak much.

If you must label me,
Label me, Me.

She is unfinished stories and dog-eared adventure books. She is adorned with string lights and stray cat toys, an overflowing junk drawer and a perfectly loud laugh. She is kind brown eyes and witty comments. She is first.

He is pastel tears and bird feathers. He is Twenty One Pilots' lyrics and faded polaroids. He speaks in hushed tones and drinks mint tea. He will hold and let himself be held. He is empathy.

She is firey spirit and winged eyeliner. Glitter and badassery. She is scarred and beautiful. She protects and yells. Cries and laughs. She is ***** jokes and black clothes. She is who I am too timid to be.

He is a lone flame and endless darkness all at once. He is a sharp blade and subdued smile. Strong coffee, pop-tarts, and ripped jeans. Tae kwon do and boy scouts. He is too often forgotten.

She is buck teeth and Greatest Showman lyrics. Stubbornness and freckles. Conceals her self-consciousness with mock confidence. Funny faces and the best dance moves. She hides my things and steals my clothes. She stirs up trouble in the best way.

He is soft smiles and lego armies. He loves cats and make-believe (though video games are his first love). Creates pillow forts and mysteries, art and movie magic. He wears glowstick necklaces and no shirt proudly, as he should. He loves my heart.

She is willow trees and afternoon tea. Gentle rain and improv games. Quirky and polite, she is decorated with her gap-toothed smile and childish style. She hands out stickers and strums her ukelele with affection. She inspires me.

He. Oh God, he. He is summer skies and skateboards. Braces and freckles. He is a shell-collector and songwriter. He loves the stage. Compassion and hand-holding, cheek kisses and free smiles. He is devotion.

They hold me, and I hold them. We cry, we laugh, we hate. We sing and we dance, we talk about our dreams. We depend on each other. We love one another. Many would not be here without me.

And I couldn't be here without them.