She is a natural disaster
confused and misunderstood
waiting on the promise you made
to help clear up
the hurricanes, tsunamis,
forest fires, the floods,
the self doubt, the grief,
the regrets, the 'shoulds'.
she is a natural disaster.
and you promised you'd be there after
to pick up the debris and aftermath,
to sweep away, the damage, the ash,
to help her dig amongst the rubble
and find and rediscover her smile, her laugh
to help her decipher between the
good and the trash
to help her crumble and then reconstruct
to help her rebuild
stronger foundations
than those laid
in her childhood.

Sometimes the absence of the face helps us to look inside the soul.

she had been
stabbing herself
with her own knife
until he took it from her

and right as she believed
that he was trying to help
he handed her a larger one
and said,
"here, try this one"

Before you check your phone
Before you wash your face
Before you eat your breakfast
Before you resume your sleep

Draw open the curtains
Embrace each light ray and
Run your fingers through the sea
Leaking through your windows

Stretch open your arms
Feel each light ray and
Watch it glow as it hits you
Drenching you with white

Breathe in, breathe out well--
Hoping to inhale one light ray and
Engulf your blood with it
Running through your veins.

When that is done, you are complete.
You are brand new, fearless, impervious.

For twenty-four hours, when you are cut
You will not bleed--

You will shine.

ive smashed
every
single
******* mirror
in this house
because
*im so tired of seeing you
when i look at me

like a cigarette, ignited and raised to your scornful lips
you made me your addiction
and i let you consume me

I keep
  falling into love
and walking into walls
tripping over boundaries
    and overstepping limits
I guess the only thing
  you left me
was a diminished
      sense of space.

I look at you and I see half-finished poems and words that don’t exist, your eyes are like indigo oceans I keep drowning in but somehow I don’t mind not being able to breathe.  I wish I knew more about why you are the way you are, what terrifies you the most about yourself, and why I find it difficult to catch my breath when you look at me as if I am a stolen daydream. You make up for a lot of things, really, like going through fourth period half asleep because last night it took me three hours to stop thinking about you. You make up for that, and everything else. You are made of electricity and good intentions stitched together with a voice that could shatter a million hearts, and I am just a lost soul wondering why I trust you with mine. And I do, I do, I trust you with my stupid old heart, and I want to memorize every single corner of yours like the back of my hand. I want to know how a heart like yours could love such a wounded one like mine, but maybe that’s what love is, sacrificing perfection for something tragically real. I look at you and I see fluctuating potential, like the morning sun peeking out behind tired gray clouds, and how sometimes that has to be enough. Ever since I met you, my heart has remembered how to beat, my hands have remembered how to hold, and you love me enough to make me forget how much I don’t love myself. Maybe you are temporary and maybe you’re an illusion, but I still cling to the hope that maybe, this is why I held on until now.

and so we dress like the wind and
speak like the rain.