from my window the rain made me numb
but when I walked outside
the rain healed me
held me
pulled me out of my screen
I needed to feel it
the must and the rush
surrounding me
tapping
fresh cold in my nose
forcing presence
I'm smiling
the rain reminds me

i've lost my pen pal
she used to collect sand dollars
and write poems for me
stay up late
reading about sharks
making fairy houses
bubbling from music
she was melancholy but she knew herself
like the moon over the ocean

between lovers
a soft reminder
like a cypher
behind closed doors we become one
humans are poets by nature
a metaphor on our lips that lingers
we have nothing else to share
except our minds and our bodies
and to give both is our greatest offering

as I open my eyes my body hums
realizing where I am
rare autumn sun drizzles through the window
the warmth of you is sweet like maple syrup
and I marinate in the joy connecting our limbs

with you I feel safer than I've ever felt
where you end and I start
can't say
I savor these mornings like sunlight in November
as we melt together in bed

he doesn't text me
and I think
it's my arms
chicken cutlets
that need the fat trimmed off
maybe it's the way my belly rolls
when he's holding my legs up
even in his lust
he must see
my flaws
can he worship a woman
that's beautiful and round?
the figures on his screens
tall, tight, trimmed, and small
in the bedroom night
shadows purse together
like lips
mouthing no on his wall
but it's me
I'm the woman
bullying myself all along

I put my thoughts in his mind
and place my words in his mouth.

when they write about ******* they don't write about mine
when I read the word "*******"
I see mystical plump teardrops
kisses from the gods
tiny pink *******
perfect for putting your mouth on
mine hang as I write
slouched braless over my keyboard
dark round
odd things
too big in all the wrong ways
but alas
they are still ******* after all

I plan out my words to him like a poem
hoping he'll notice they were plucked just for him
like my eyebrows
and ***** hair
please adore my presentation
and I'll lay silent and bare

the June air feels so good against my skin
I'm smoking and I shouldn't
that feels good too
I'm thinking about him and I shouldn't
that feels melancholy
like a Sunday night
pathetic
like a long drag on my cigarette
hidden in the shadowed light
I want but it's wrong
like picking the scab on my leg
it feels visceral and rewarding
until it hurts
dried blood on my sheets
I know he's sleeping in his
soundly
no thoughts
but I'm there
like a shadow
following his movement
go home and sleep, silly girl
yes, but kissing him feels like catching up

in my dream
you told me you love me
But the words came out
of another mouth
I haven’t seen your face
in two years
but in my mind’s eye it shone out
like a sand dollar brushed with sun
your eyes were always slips of blue water
not shallow
but a misperceived depth
I fell in long ago
Sipped as I swam
thought I found my way
but I’m back
at the edge
not willingly
but I’ll dip my toe in

Your eyes delight me
entice me
I want to dip and bloom
in soft blue lagoons
but as I lay next to you
my body is stone
every movement I've seen
play out in my dreams
a simple word from my lips
head moving closer to rest
in the boat of your chest
but I'm frozen
this duvet an ocean
alone each night
I bathe with delicate hands
and tonight in the moonlight
you're here with me
for a midnight swim
I want you to read my face
and see that I'm drowning
please kiss me
and be patient

I’m hit with sounds and smells of you
Sitting behind a smoker on the transit
And I’m strangely nostalgic
I’ve grown to love it
Because on you it’s mixed with pine
Like you dozed off next to a fire pit

I realize you’re all around me
Because in these parts
short flannel clad men
with tall egos
are a dime a dozen

Though I know when I move away
I’ll look back with yearning
On those nights in your car
(they meant more to me than you know)
listening to Tame Impala and waiting for the bridge
bass cranked high like the heat
effervescent windows frosted
from our craft brewed breaths
singing and saturated with spirit(s)

Was this home or all I came to know?

I can’t deny that summer will never again
be as heavy with happiness
as when the sky has stopped her crying
long enough to paint in pastels
canopied air crisp enough to bite
I guess that’s what happens
when you spend 2/3 of the year in grey

it’s not for me

I’m a fool
the way
I dreamt of us laying in bed
brushing my fingers down his arm
and him
cupping my chin
kissing me densely
a firm desire
I wouldn’t know it
so how did I dream it ?
I felt the sweet delight
of bodies meeting finally
and his breath so soft on my *******
I want it in my lungs...

When the yearning is heavy on your shoulders
you don’t have to think about where to go
When it happens I think I’ll know

Take my thoughts away...

i was borne of one heart
two sides, but cor unum
i was blessed with a sweet pairing before me
a gentle winds at my birth whispering
go forth and take us with you
my breaths are an ode
and my fears reflect an earthly greatness
a mountain range behind and before me
do not forget the love that made you..
so vast
while i, an open crater
must drink to fill parched canyons
that echo my name


i cannot wait for rain

Last night I dreamt of him kissing my eyelids and eyes
catching my tears with his kisses before they could fall.
Why would he do such a gentle thing?
My wondering echoed the depths of my sleep
and through the night he whispered back to me
I want to taste every part of you
even the tears that you cry.
My only wish is to take away your fears and shames
and swallow them myself.

I awoke asking the cold morning
if such a selfless thing could exist beyond dreams?

i think i'm afraid
of how much you make me feel
and i'm worried i'm not enough
i lie awake in my sheets
imagining what it would take
to make you feel me

i'm unhealthy

everyday i make choices for myself with you in mind
everywhere i go i carry thoughts so heavy
every time i pass you i try my hardest to look ahead
i'm breaking apart
but it still feels like fireworks

your eyes are so stunning
there are times when they widen
and for a moment they become the center of my world
i don't know how to avoid their pull
how can i look away
when you've given me a glimpse of your soul
i'm drowning in the blue
but i'll never call out for anyone else

take a moment every day to be thankful
pen out your love
onto paper or into your thoughts
for the bed that cradles you
for the sun that kisses you
for the air that fills you endlessly
for the body and mind that give you purpose
for the people that need you among hundreds
and would feel empty in your absence
you are alive by these gifts
to embrace them is to be eternally wealthy

i will never again wrap my arms around you
in the same way that i will never again
wrap my mind around the idea that i was not enough for you.
i am enough and i will always be enough.
i am all that i have
At the end of the day when the sun is not there
to give my thoughts and surroundings a warm glow
and there are no voices or bodies around but my own
all that i have and all that matters
is what exists behind my eyelids
it is there that i grow and turn darkness into my canvas
for raising light, love, and potential
while my body slowly ages.
i am enough
or else you did not see me.

is the anticipation always better?

it's odd how we decide that we need another
person
to fuse together
by the lips
by the body
there is no other purpose
than to feel excitement
We know nothing, minds and bodies completely foreign
except to the idea of shared beauty
to the possibility of fitting together
like the threads of the duvet I am lying under
maybe someday you will sleep next to me
but for now I will think of you across the street

my chest aches
but i know my struggle
is not unique or important
it is one of self pity
for too long i have made myself sick
why do i never learn
the more i live the more i trip over my feet

my thoughts are heavy, booming like thunder
but when i speak my words fall out like cake crumbs
airy, pointless, forgetful
do they see me as dumb and powerless like i feel?

everything i do is an effort to distract
from what i cannot say out loud
i live in a honey world
surrounded by sappy sweetness
but i cannot breathe or move through it
to connect with those around me

this world tells us to go to the bedroom
but i want to follow you to the park
i cannot see your face ahead of me
but your eyes are my two round worlds
and i know they are sparkling
you reach back for my hand
and pull me into you
sharing warmth between clothes
and as the sun kisses us goodbye
our lips take its place

i think you wanted the same things as me

i laughed when you looked at me
averting my eyes
i turn to laughter when i am shy
it is my shield
i have yet to find my sword
even in my dreams i do not have the courage
and even in my dreams
you are but a figure of beauty
out of my reach

i stare at my window, not out
there is a difference
i am not seeing the world outside
there are are so many places i could be
but i am here, dreadfully
a prisoner to myself

nothingness used to be my greatest fear
the fear of death
not an imaginable vacuum of darkness
but something without existence
something i cannot write about
but now i realize that the nothingness
is already here
i am nothing
humans have fabricated it all
and i am just a sequel
an invisible thread
pretending to have a purpose
i am alone

i have reached the point of sadness
it has become part of me
and it is so deeply woven
and i am so drenched
it has seeped into crevices of me no one has ever seen
i have reached the point of sadness
i have been silent long enough
alone in my body
that it is feeble to turn it into words
and feed them to someone else
it has transcended words
it is me and always has been
i have always been a fearful sadness
at this moment i have run out of covers
that is why i am alone
underground
in my car
writing this poem with red eyes
but no tears

everyone is drunk and laughing
obnoxious in the best of ways
the last time we will all be together
"this is freshman year" buzzes in my ears
on a whim i fumbled for his hand
he looked at me with crystal blues
they were surprised but hopeful
i pulled him away from the multitude of conversations
the sun sprinkling fairy dust through the trees
summer is on the horizon, i know nothing can really happen
but i just want to be here with him for this moment
we tucked ourselves behind some trees
on a soft bed of grass
secluded
we could've been alone in a forest
sat there in calm silence
until he whispered timidly
"i wish i could've gotten to know you better"
i replied softly "i know, me too"

i would never admit this out loud
but he kind of makes me sad
the way i might feel bad for an ugly animal
how lowly a life you must've had
to wear that dreadful hat
"Make America Great Again"
short, silly little man!
why are you the way that you are
your face seems soft like a baby
but you ****** with my best friend's heart!
and she may forgive you
but i definitely won't

i usually make jokes at myself
because to some people
celibacy is funny
and what better way to cover up insecurity
yes i could have *** i guess
but i'm stuck in a comfortable place
where i've put it just out of reach
and i haven't allowed my muscles to stretch
yes i could have *** i guess
girls and boys alike have expressed interest
but whenever i get close
i plan a carefully elusive escape
a "coincidental" blockade
i may have put it there myself
but forgive me for being picky
not everyone has the skill of hurling themselves
please, don't call me a tease
i just have to sniff around before i know what i want
and usually, i've discovered
i don't

now i don't even try
and say hi
if theres a person i don't know in the room
such a drastic difference
from how i was a few months ago
i hate this
i have so much anger
but i feel so dry and i don't have the energy to express it
i think my eyes are just welling from tiredness
**** this **** hole that i used to love so much
my room feels like a pig pen
and my sheets don't feel clean even when i wash them
people irritate me beyond words sometimes
but mostly im so mad at myself
for being so content with laziness, cowardice
everything moves so slowly
and i get dragged along each day
im scraped up like my knees
**** i need a band aid

i feel like i'm going in/sane?
i'm such a hypocrite
calling myself a feminist
but i shame my body every time i look in the mirror
and i let the boys hold the sculptor's tools
and i try to make them like me more by wearing makeup and pushing up my *******
and i talk behind other girls' backs
and sometimes i still have to bite my tongue when they talk about sleeping around
and i looked her up and down before she spoke a word
and the difference between a good and bad day can be all about my face
and i don't even use the privileges i have to help the oppressed be heard
but i want this all to stop
and that is why i am a feminist
because i get moments of clarity and awe
they are getting closer together and longer
i see the way us girls are never given a chance
it is a lot to ask of us to know any better
and it horrifies me that
the definition of torture can match up
with some of the manners in which we are brought up

look past all of the cliches
shake off your automatic response to go "ugh"
and realize the implications of being told you're an object
in society's state of mind
over half of the population shouldn't have a voice
and that doesn't even take into account the intersections
enough layers to drown in oppression
and compared to most i'm on top of the bottom

it's silly how were all the same
fragile friends with fake-ids
our eyes welling beer tears
each day
a new breakdown
desperate to catch a breath of each moment
while the world shoves our futures
down our throats

today, on valentine's day
i'm glad i'm back home
because otherwise
i'd probably run into you
in the hallway
or as i'm walking out the door
and you'd pretend you don't notice me
as you lately always do
that
or i'd just be alone in my room
lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling
thinking about how we both live in the same building
and both want each other
but nothing's going to happen.
it's utterly pathetic
and seems to be a common trend for my love life in college
so far.
i'm just ******* because i know this is cliche
but we are so compatible
and i think your hair and laugh and scrunchy smile are adorable
(and those dumb red high tops you always wear that oddly attract me to you more)
and i'm annoyed
that you threw it all away because of your nerves
and honestly who the hell knows
what is it about me that always scares people away?
just one of many questions i am left to ponder
alone in my bed.

the moments kiss you so quickly
you regret your promiscuity
while also questioning it's existence

i listen to tragic songs
not because i want to be sad
or disappear further in my shadow
but because they speak to me
bring clarity to the things i feel
and explain what i cannot say
out loud

lately i've been overwhelmed
bathing in the idea of potential
i exist in my head
and i live in my dreams.
i feel your smile on my neck
and your whisper makes me shiver
music that travels up my spine
and buzzes through my limbs
but it isn't real yet
your glow breaks through everything i see
and i'm floating on a crystal current
i want so much and i see it all
but i'm trapped
i'm unable to move
i'm forced to sit here and pretend
to hope
i can't wait
but i'm also afraid

when i close my eyes
i go to places i've been to
maybe not
i decorate memories
in short breaths
i see neighborhoods
i see miles of desert
driving through dilated sunsets
i see the light hanging
kissing me through the window
warm sun caresses my body
while i'm laying in silken sheets
and then familiar sounds of summer
the intense feeling of being home
when i was young and nothing mattered
my thoughts and talks from those days are gone
but i'm left with the sensation
everything could've been a dream
im drifting now
i'm a child at the airport
the excitement of whats to come
fills my lungs
i need that now
i need to be young
i am young
let me fly

there's something sad about the sky
watching it fall down in colors
and paint itself to sleep
I sit and wait
for something I haven't figured out yet
listening to music that matches the hue
of the now darkened sky

I think that my disease is being okay
and living for momentary gratification
this week
nothing felt complete
you, me and everything that happened
standing in places because I should
looking at chilled and chiseled landscapes
that should transfix
but my eyes felt too hollow
not even being drunk felt like enough
I expect too much
and I feel so small

there is something wistful
about the way the cars move along
and the way I am watching them
with such diligence
from my aloof window
even up here in my leather seat
i feel a connection to their humanity
the urgency in which they scamper
through the streets and the
sunlight
so comforting in its afternoon glow
that it makes me melancholy
because as it has reached its peak
and will soon be gone.

isn't it funny the way we assume?
that this honey veil will be draped once again?
anticipating the glint of another windshield
as if it is written down in Time's script?

there is something sad
about the way we presume connection
with one another and with nature
the way we reflect ourselves
our existence
onto the tiny people laughing in the parking lot
and the trees that speak no tongue at all
only the language of perpetual existence
that we try desperately to decipher
with our limiting words

my feet are tired
but they will never feel as heavy
as the ones that took these stairs to bed
every night
having labored
until the smothering sun had seeped into their very beings
the floorboards have grown wise
among the unceasing symphony of footsteps
each layer of rust and grime
conceals an unspoken history
but this hotel was one of few
that took note and listened
with every step I do my best
to glide into the past
echoes of daily conversation
questions and longing
"Did you hear about..."
"The most hilarious thing happened to me today..."
"I miss the way she..."
I see the walls transforming around me
the paper lanterns hanging
dazzling gold detail restored
brilliant red puffed with warm radiance
I see the light spreading across the ceiling
like hundreds of arms held out
to comfort the souls making a home
in this foreign unaccepting land
the wafting smell of familiar cooking
brings about throngs of memory
i will never really know the feeling
but as I look out the window
through the lazy haze of apricot sunlight
I can taste the uncertainty and fear
but it is overwhelmed by dreams

words on every corner
reach out with LED lights and capital letters
OVERSIZE LOAD and RECYCLED FASHION
demand an appetite for peripheral attention
bashful graffiti is tentative to show his smirk
unsure if he is welcome in this delicate urban zoo
where ponytailed dogs and homeless hands
share the same sallow sidewalk bricks

look up!
see the royal sorbet sky
he raises his wispy brows
as a crane lowers its dragon neck
into the safety of its concrete den
how dare such a beast encroach  
on the heavenly domain of clouds

all day a man sits in contradiction
crisp collar and stolen office chair
handing out desperate news for dollar bills
as tattered as his tiny hands

I wonder if the cigarette ****
feels worthless, now alone
dreaming to once again be puffed
being flattened by rubber soles

years ago this was home land
rich, taut and quietly loved
the earth soaked in moon's pearl balm
where his eyelashes touched the ground

Everybody knows the city always listens
through the scattered trees left here to stand
when our footsteps seem like only feathers
lost in the echoes of civilization

street now veiled by velvet
a cradle for eyes to close
the lamplight is my guiding star
i see illuminated faces
in hazy windows
and the flash and beam
of passing car

as i look out my window
at the glossy mirrored skyscrapers
painted with splendid light
i realize
that i haven't thought about
that old house or town all day.
people from there have passed through my thoughts
but i haven't pictured myself back there at all.
and now as i am looking back up at the towers
i feel like they are standing there for me:
protective and beautiful.
now,
when i think about where i used to live
i don't yet feel passive,
but i no longer feel desire.

i am learning to accept
that some people will never be
who i want or need them to be

now,
the only thing that clears my mind
is the little park across the street
with it's soft dirt paths and circular moon lamps
it is here
in the smooth warm air
that i can forget it all, yet still think.

tonight i saw the movie paper towns
excellent message but poorly executed
but from it i reaped two important insights:
1. that my life has been paper for a long time
2. something much worse than being paper
is treating others like paper: disposable, recyclable

i am a collection of what people want me to be
of what i assume people want me to be
of what i hope people want me to be
acquired meticulously over time
and pressed out in my words and on my skin
like spread sheet data.

have you noticed how i love small things
that is why i am a poet
i savor the details
they give me life and spark my feelings

im moving soon
im going away
but no one answers the phone
or gives me the time of day
im sad and lonely
maybe no one knows what they have
until its gone
but i have a sinking feeling
they'll just forget and be done


with me.

i've never been
the kind of person
that others feel the need to impress
and go after
i'm not unwanted but i feel slightly less desirable
than the rest
it seems that being attainable is unattractive
i guess they assume i'll always be there
or that im not beneficial to their cause enough
i wonder what it is about me
that makes people less inclined
to text me first
or come running to me with gossip
i would consider myself an average listener
maybe even a pretty good one
i wonder what i'm missing
still, i don't think i'll ever stop seeking and listening
myself
is that my downfall? maybe so

sitting in the car, radio on
a poet died today
his name was Phillip Levine
87 years old
a good substantial lifetime
"Found Poetry On Detroit's Assembly Lines"
he wrote about assembly line workers all his life
how boring one may think
but for me something clicked
poets are just lovers, synonymous
finding beauty in the dust and streetlamp light
taking it in and falling deeply for years
there are those with many love affairs
but Phillip was a loyal partner
Detroit assembly lines his lifelong fiancee
making him raw, bringing him meaning
to him, the world
and to share it was all that mattered.