So I lay down once more
It’s 2:10 in the morning
I wish it was the devil calling
And not my mind falling
Into thoughts of you
What you might be doing
When did I become her again
I can’t pin point it
I promised myself
This
Wouldn’t
Happen
And it’s happening
Again

I’m not afraid of death
I’ve met him before
Greeted him in line
At the grocery store
He’s danced with me
Beneath the stars
Sat passenger in
Every one of my cars
He’s slept beside me
Held me so tight
Hearing me pray
To survive the night
He’s laughed at my jokes
Cackled in fact
When the crowd didn’t,
He always laughs back
I’m familiar with death
And with the unknown
He waits for the chance
To welcome me home

Escape rooms with clues, with keys, hidden doors,
Boyfriends with Tinder accounts I’m forced to explore.
I turn to detective, survival my prize,
But each door I open—another disguise.
I’m solving, I’m finding, I’m moving ahead,
But these men keep appearing, like ghosts I once fled.
I never asked in, never chose to survive,
But each one demands more just to feel alive.
“Leave me alone,” I shout, as I push through a door,
But the echoes call back—“you’ll never escape, you *****.”
The next room awaits, floral, honey and sweet,
And at its dark center—another puzzle to beat.

“You can leave,” they tell me, opening the door.
I freeze, asking what I’d be leaving for.
“For better,” they say, “you do not belong.”
I whisper, “tell me then—did I do something wrong?”
“No,” they reply, “but you’re not meant to remain.”
My reflection in the doorway twists into fear and shame.
“Please,” I beg, “I can change, I can learn, I can stay.”
“You’re not made for this place—there is no other way.”
My feet turn to concrete, rooted deep in the ground,
Though the doorway keeps calling, its silence too loud.
“I won’t go,” I insist, “you can’t make me grieve.”
“You shouldn’t be here—that’s reason enough to leave.”
The door gapes open, the unknown staring back,
I shrink in the corner, afraid of attack.
The watchers stand still, unwilling to intervene,
While I fold myself smaller, hoping not to be seen.

If I could give you just one piece of advice,
It would be this —
Don’t fall in love in this lifetime.

In this lifetime, be soft, and be kind.
Don’t be in a rush — go slow, take your time.
Don’t tie yourself down — go explore, and go travel.
Take risks, and be open — let your spirit unravel.

Live loudly, without fear of the unknown,
And wherever you go — make it your home.
Allow yourself to grow, to change, and expand.
Learn everything about everything — learn as much as you can.

If it’s not in your control, let it pass — let it go.
Keep the lessons as reminders, practise how to say “no.”
Be flexible with your time — even more with expectation,
But strong in your belief, and your moral foundation.

Assume people are good — then believe what they show.
Watch for their actions — that’s how you will know.
Be inspired by the world, and all that surrounds.
Seek out the beauty — in imperfection found.

Make mistakes — and make many, as often as you can.
Take the time that you need — to learn from each of them.
Be curious, and courageous — in all that you do.
Listen first, before speaking — when spoken to.

Find solace in solitude — there is strength in being alone.
Know when you can, and can’t, do it on your own.
Try everything at least once — don’t let opportunity go.
Have every experience — only then can you know.

That despite all of this — and when it’s still not enough,
You will find yourself drawn to that feeling of love.

So;
Love with everything you have — be honest, be true,
And when that love turns to pain — love all of that too.

The poet not in love
Is the violin never heard
The sunrise never seen
And the water never felt.
The fires never lit
The birds never in flight
The lips never touched
The meaning never found.

The poet not in love is
The journey never taken
The path never walked
The guitar with no strings
And the painter with no canvas.
The parent to no child
The treasure never discovered
The book with no beginning
The story with no reason.

The poet not in love is silent
And what a useless thing to be
As a poet.

I don’t want you-
I want all the things
You promised me you would be,
For me.
I don’t want this-
I want every conversation
We had about the future
And how we would be in it,
Undoubtedly.
I don’t hope for better-
I hope for true
I hope that the next person
who lies to me, next to me
is not you.
I don’t want you-
I don’t even want to understand you anymore,
I want to return to the version of me
before there was ever a YOU
For me to ignore.