i dreamt you could love me again,
that you had a big studio apartment in the city
and you bought her lots of gifts,
made her go thrifting with you
to buy strange clothes,
but she knew you loved someone else,
she knew you missed me
and that you would always be mine,
and although i woke up
and not a bit of it was true
(because i know you love her
and that you don’t think about me)
it was still nice to live in a world
where your heart had not
forgotten my name.

The words I can’t say to you are
climbing up my throat
I keep forgetting to breathe
I miss your hands.

A part of me lives miles and minutes and moments away
in an indefinite, dreamy place where clocks are not my enemy
and I associate the word “distance" with travel, not longing
My heart has sailed across the Atlantic,
moved eagerly through the Indian Ocean,
navigated using an atlas inked with butterflies
and stars that gleam ardently
(just as your rosemary eyes do,
every once in a blue moon,
when you’re able to sew together
the disarrayed thoughts
that dwell in your messy head)

You are so, so far away

However, if I avoid calendars and geography,
it feels like you’re right here beside me

In the afternoon, when the sun shines
through my bedroom window
and paints the world map on my wall with light,
I shut my eyelids and run my thumb along the string
that stretches across the parchment,
connecting me to you

I pretend that when I open my eyes,
you will be here
and that my aching fingers
that are so desperately
grasping the paper
will be intertwined
with yours

you told me to take up new hobbies
to distract myself from the pain
you were causing me

you told me to learn origami
so i did
and now my room is crowded
by paper cranes folded each time
your name came to mind

and you told me
to learn how to juggle
so i did
but not in the way
you were talking about

I should’ve realized it
when you told me
that you didn’t know
if you were in love with me,
yet you had no problem
with saying
I love you
over and over
again.

i’m too shy
to tell you
how i feel

so i’ll hide behind
timid smiles
and soft hellos

i’m afraid
if i ask you

“what do you think of me?”

your reply will be

          
                              
                               “i don’t.”

i don’t want to sit around all day
impatiently waiting for him to call
and when i finally hear his voice
i don’t want to feel like he’s
the air in my lungs i need to breathe
and when it’s time to say goodbye
i don’t want to fight over
who should hang up first

i’m not looking for someone
to make me feel whole,
because i already am
i’m not looking for someone
to save me because
i’ve already been saved

i don’t want to be holding
hands at the wrist so if (when)
he lets go, i’m still holding on

i don’t want in-between
fake promises from prince charming

i want diner breakfasts
at 3 in the morning and
long car rides with broken radios
and handwritten letters with
nothing scribbled out because
he doesn’t care about perfection,
he cares about being real

when it’s time,
i want to be in love
not in love
with feeling loved

My breath is lost as I gaze upon the magnitude of the mountains that surround me. I marvel at how beautifully the water reflects the sky, pure white clouds stretched across blankets of soft pinks and blues as the sun sets behind the trees. I see the steadiness of Your hand in the horizon. I see Your love of variety in shells scattered along the shoreline. I see Your flawless detail in the veins of a maple leaf. I see Your creative spark in fireflies glowing subtly against the darkness of an airy August night. I hear You in the winter wind, I feel You in the summer heat. My soul is flooded with joy at the sight of Your creation. I cannot help but lift my hands and praise You.

I feel invisible
Yet you claim(ed) I am the air you breathe
And perhaps like air I am always present,
But presently forgotten

The heaviness of your hush is crushing me with empty blows
This silence leads me to wander down a path cloaked in a heavy mist
That whispers harsh truths such as:
Our hopeless, fictitious, drawn out infatuation is like
A library book that was checked out last March
You underlined and doggie-paged the first few chapters
And then left it on your shelf to collect dust all of April and May

I foolishly kept begging you to finish the book
Read the last sentence
Take time to skim over the epilogue
Please
Find your way to the back cover

I foolishly ignored your “I can’t”s

And now it’s late August and our love is long overdue,
In the opposite sense of what the phrase typically means

I write with angry lead because
I am too stubborn to admit I just filled a trash bin with tissues
And that the cuffed sleeves of my flannel
Are damp like grass’s morning dew

I have so much more to say,
Although I cannot find the words
To say anything more than



You should’ve written.

Because two weeks of nothing
Was enough for me to realize that you are just a passing breeze
Seldom present, presently becoming something of the past.

So often I feel as though I am seen as summer rain,
someone who does nothing but
nourishes thirsty flowers in dry soil,
precious and beautiful and unable to do any wrong

when in reality, there are unseen, hidden parts of me
and secrets I’ve only been brave enough
to whisper to a few, bits of my past
that are journal pages ripped up
and swept underneath my bed

And you are my deepest secret

I took advantage of how you felt for me
and I made you feel like you
were dirt, contaminating me because
I was innocent and perfect and could do no wrong,
but that was a lie I tried to make you believe,
because I had convinced myself
it was true, for so long

I hate that I hurt you

And I hate that I will never
be able to take that back

I cannot stand the thought of you
walking around today, or years from now
thinking of me as a mistake, a waste of time,
a thunderstorm who did nothing but uproot
such special feelings only to
destroy you in your vulnerability

But I pray you don’t think of me at all,
and that you’ve forgotten me

because I cannot stand to think
you’re out there, somewhere
remembering me as someone
who broke you.

I love it when I notice others
using the same vocabulary
or phrases as me

And while my mouth may remain
a straight line
in efforts to portray indifference,
my heart is smiling
from beat to beat
because it means that
you held me so close
that a bit of who I am
rubbed off onto you

It makes me feel as though
I’ll always be a little part of you,
disguised by letters,
unnoticeable to anyone else

But I see it (I see bits of me in you)

I’m still with you,
and I wonder if you can see it, too.

just as you cannot stare at a cut
and watch it heal,
you can’t keep glaring at the pain
and expect it to go away

so look away

let your eyes focus on
daily beauties like sun that shines
through bedroom blinds
and warm sheets
that wrap you up at night

saturday mornings
and crisp november air,
hot showers and the Opportunity
that waits for you at your front step
each and every morning

and one day,
you’ll unravel the bandage
you’ve wrapped around your heart
and the only thing you’ll see is a light scar
that’s there to remind you
of how strong you’ve become

although this life is beautiful,
it isn’t easy
and whether you believe it or not,
you are strong.

soon i will f a d e
like a photograph
left upon the windowsill,
and you will wipe away
my name from your lips

my laughter will become
a faintly familiar echo
in the hollows of your memory,
and unlike your thriving soul,
i will be fixed in a state of affliction
by the absence of your tenderness

yes, the fire in your heart
that once burned brightly for me
is growing dimmer by the hour,
however, you shall remain with me
e v e r m o r e

Two February’s ago, all I wanted to do was sleep. I was anchored to my bed with the sadness I was letting myself drown in. Now, I daydream about surviving on 3 hours of sleep, I dread going to bed, I keep my eyes open as long as I can. My heart sinks when the sun sets, I crave daylight; I’ve fallen in love with being alive.

sometimes i call your
number just for a recording
to tell me that it is
no longer i use; you’re
gone and i wish i had the
chance to speak to you
just one more time, but
i know that’s a wish i’ll
waste on shooting stars
for quite awhile

so, i’ll see you in songs and
movies that remind me of you;
old poems, the whispering
wind, and my aching heart

maybe i’ll see your face
on a crowded sidewalk
one day,

or maybe
i’ll never hear from you again

“one day”

i’m so hopeful for one day.

there are so many types of rain
light rain, heavy rain
spring rain, summer rain

the kind of rain
that make you want to
curl up with a good book,
the kind the races down
your car window
as you look out at
the tall trees whizzing by

rain that you kiss in,
rain that makes you feel alone
sometimes it smells of
new beginnings
and sometimes it feels like
you’re drowning

and the eventually,
it stops
and you can hardly remember
if you even like rain
at all

you told me
to write down my feelings
and share them with you
when you wake up,
but drawing out these emotions
isn’t easy because
they’re pale and indefinite

i cannot distinguish
a path to take,
whether it’s winding
or cobblestoned,
or so overgrown with trees
that i cannot see the sky

so maybe in the meantime
i’ll sit in my room
and fold paper cranes
on rainy days
till a map that illustrates
how to carry on
makes its way
into my muddled hands

I’m going through withdrawals. How awful it is to have to keep yourself from speaking to someone because you know if they wanted to speak to you, they would. I’m so deeply rooted in the sand that no waves that crash on land could overturn me. Your footprints are leading away from me, you are moving further and further down the shoreline, your outline growing smaller, smaller, smaller, blending in with the horizon where the sun is setting in lovely shades of red. I do not fear that you will not be loved, because even now I see how the birds adoringly sing your name. I fear the drops of saltwater that fall down my face each solemn night will one day be able to collect into ocean of their own. I fear the birds will be able to love you better than I have. I fear that this titanic amount of heaviness weighing on my heart will be ever-present. Your name is written in the clouds, and I cannot escape it, for no matter how far I run, I can never escape the sky. When I look up, there it is and so are you.

Am I really so alone in my own thought
That I can find no one with the same vision as me?
The same astonishment?
The same confusion?
The same frustration?
Someone who may console me and tell me that I am not insane?
Am I insane?
If I am not, then why can’t I find a single soul that
See things the way I see them?
Is everyone blind?
Am I?

i miss you, still
no longer in a deep, aching way,
but rather in the dull hum of my car radio

i hope you smiled today

and while you’re getting swept up
in the excitement and mystery and
passion of this confusing, intriguing,
heartbreaking, beautiful life,

i hope you never forget what is most important

i hope you remember that
it’s not about finding someone to complete
and write sappy poems about,
it’s not about listening to soft music on repeat
with your eyes closed,
wishing you were somewhere else
or someone else,
and it’s not about doing well on exams,
or traveling the world,
or always being artificial sunshine
instead of being real

because it’s okay to have sad days,
and a number in the corner of a page
can’t give you lasting satisfaction,
and you can’t be everyone’s prince charming,
and while music stirs up something
so beautiful inside of us,
you can’t hide in your melancholy world
of D minor, forever

every night i pray that you’re not lost,
that you’re somehow finding your way,
and although
i can’t speak these words to you directly,
i hope you know
i’ll always care

1.  don’t be afraid of getting hurt
because in life there are times
when we need to be vulnerable
an unmatchable brilliance is radiated
when you bare your soul to another
and are privileged enough to be shown
the deepest parts of their spirit in return

2.  write often
no one has to see it, you can scribble
on napkins and throw them away
but please, allow yourself to know
the freedom of letting words seep
from your heart and relieving
the heavy strain of carrying
so many smothering thoughts

3.   never promise forever
because not once have i met
a person whose forever lasted
and i can’t say
i remember a time
when my forever has lasted, either

i could be that girl
whose voice is low and melodic
and coats your mouth with
acacia honey
whose eyes are the color
and depth of
midnight
whose presence is thick like
new york summers
rosy like
los angeles in early spring
if i braid flowers into my hair
if i write enough poems
if i learn to show the skin of my essence
but remain an abyss—
i will stop making art
when i become it

there once was a young girl with green eyes
who wore her soft blond hair
in braided pigtails

at the age of seven,
she watched her older sister
stand in front of the mirror before school
and pinch her stomach with a disgusted face
          neither of them ate breakfast that morning

at the age of nine,
she watched her older brother
make fun of a girl with glasses
for reading on the bus
          she went home and hid all her books in the attic

at the age of twelve,
she watched the older girls at school
with straight hair and short skirts
put makeup on in the bathroom
and discuss how boys would only like you
if you looked perfect, like them
          the next day she arrived with red lips, short shorts, and no braided pigtails

at the age of fourteen,
she watched her father hit her mother for the first time
her mother cried when she saw her standing in the doorway
and told her daddy didn't mean it
          the next year, she told herself that her boyfriend didn't mean it, either

at the age of sixteen,
she was paper thin and empty
with straight blond hair, red lips,
purple flesh, and lifeless green eyes
          while staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror,
          she thought to herself "at least i'm normal."

don’t you worry now,
it’s all about to change
you told me
     you were going to change
to be a better you for me
     and you said you wanted
so badly to make this work

taken all that you are
taken all that i’ve got
i gave you every bit of me
     and you tried to give me
every bit of you, but
     it was too difficult
for you to try to love yourself
     when you were giving
so much of yourself to me

don’t run away from all this
it can cause more than you think
before i didn’t want to let go,
     i wanted to keep believing that
     maybe
you’d be able to love me
as much as i loved you

i’ll be gone
so turn your hands in
and now that i’ve let go,
it doesn’t feel like you’re gone
     more so, it feels like i’m the one
     who has left you standing
     with your face in your hands,
wishing you’d been able to be
a better you for me

don’t you worry now,
it’s all about to change
i don’t doubt that one day
     you’ll be an amazing you
for someone else
     and that one day
it’ll all make sense to both of us

don’t you worry now,
it’s all about to change*
and i don’t doubt
     that one day
i will find someone
who will love me
as much as you wanted to

no use in wondering if you saved my letters
or still look at photographs of me and sigh
because at the end of the day
when i’m wrapped up in sheets and blankets
wearing wooly socks and thick leggings and flannel
i’m still cold
and you’re still
so far away
in so many ways
and i miss you, i miss you, i miss you
i miss you
but i can’t tell you
and i won’t tell you
because even if you miss me
like i miss you
i’m the one
who tripped up the stairs
and even if you offered me a hand
(you didn’t, that’s okay)
i couldn’t take it
because i need to clean
the cuts on my knees
and wait for the bruises to fade
on my own
so while it seems that you’re fine now
with taking the stairs two at a time,
i’m still trying
to stand on my feet
and i miss you, i miss you, i miss you
i really freaking miss you
and i’m trying so hard
to be strong

darling girl,
why do you cry yourself to sleep every night
praying for someone
to come along and give you love,
to stay up with you till three in the morning
and listen attentively
as you list off all of your
passions, worries, burdens
to be envious of your attention
to kiss your forehead
and hold you without judgement
to be there for you
when you feel alone
to assure you everything will be okay
and remind you
that every sunrise and crashing wave
is a chance to make things right

when I’m right here
waiting for you with open arms,
ready to replenish
every empty space in your heart
because although you’re imperfect
and you hate the way
your front tooth is slightly crooked

I see you perfectly

darling girl,
why haven’t you opened your eyes to realize
that I’ve been here for you
all along

all of the words
you speak
today and tomorrow
are in vain

for you do not wish
to throw rocks at my window,
you know very well
i am already on my doorstep
waiting for you

you love me in songs played
on tuesday afternoons,
gaps in conversation where
three words are meant to fill it
and faded journal entries
dated when time was blind

you’ve written disguised goodbyes
beneath my eyes
and subliminally (explicitly)
whispered (shouted)
to move on, move on, move on
each moment i’ve tried to draw you nearer,
you do your best to push me further away

but even from a distance,
you are still holding on

let me go
let me go
let me go

so i may finally
let go
of
you

i wish we could go to a park at night
and sit back to back
on a blanket beneath the trees
and talk until the stars tell us to go home
because when i look at you straight on
my knees grow weak and my voice shakes
and maybe i'm not exactly sure what to say
when i'm distracted by
all the what ifs in your eyes
and maybe my mind dizzies with thought
like the possibility that i could be
a high tidal wave
that washes away the foundations
of a barely built sandcastle
and maybe i just wish i could tell you
everything on my mind at 2am
and maybe i'm just really hoping
you feel the same way

the thing about feelings
is that they change
yesterday,
  you may have been
   completely infatuated
    with someone  
     or entirely immersed
     in sadness,
   but that doesn’t mean
that’s how you feel now
or how you’ll feel forever
and i fear that people forget that,
  i fear we fail to remember
   that emotions are not permanent
    and maybe that’s why
     her stomach hurts
    when she thinks about
   the girls in his life
  before her
  or why i’m reluctant
   to share old poems
    because i don’t want anyone
     to think that’s how i feel today
    so maybe we should start asking
   “how are you?” more often
     and stop accepting
      the default “i’m okay.”
       and maybe we should start
      caring more about
    what people say now,
   instead of dwelling on
  words of the *past

my mind is filled
with beautiful snapshots
as numerous as the stars,
thousands of which
have illuminated my darkest skies
and lulled me to rest
on restless nights

i have seen
lengths of sorrow quenched
by duvets of summer rain,
oceans of love
poured into empty hearts
and the hope of a new dawn

all i have seen,
all the grace i have held
in my undeserving hands,
all the contagious grins,
all the precious little moments
and moments that have moved mountains,
all the miracles, all the love, all the joy

all of these,
all of the bright colors
that have painted my path thus far,
pale in comparison
to the sun that will rise
above tomorrow’s horizon

i fear that you are
drowning in your own depth
and i hope that you have
learned to hold your breath
for extended periods of time
and that you know when
to come up for an interlude
of fresh air every once in awhile

your heart is so
special
please take care
of it

because i would hate
to hear that you’ve broken
two more
one, hers
and in return, yours
yet again

although you've gotten taller,
your eyes have remained
the same shade of trusting brown
and deep down
you are still the little girl
who stayed up late
whispering secrets to her best friend
beneath flower patterned sheets

and you're still afraid of spiders
and you still cannot sit still
and as you grew up
you noticed that the world
is a lot smaller than it used to seem

and i think when you looked
into the wonder-filled eyes
of this little girl
you saw a reflection of yourself
and it reminded you that
although you’ve gotten taller,
your eyes have retained
that same glimmer of hope

life is full of searching

searching for someone who appreciates you,
who understands each deep thought
that fills your mind and holds your hand
even when those thoughts are unclear

we search for light in dark places,
hoping that things aren’t truly as
grim as they appear to be

we search for time and consequently
waste it in the process

so often we spend days and months
and years searching for something
we think will steady our hearts

step back and take a moment
to inhale and exhale with eyes closed,
and the one thing that will bring forth
pure joy will become clear, it will
stand out and beckon for your attention

you then have a choice:
either pretend you can find a light
more satisfying and continue to search
blindly for something that will never appear,
or look at the love and hope you’ve found,
and put your faith and trust in the
most brilliant light you’ll ever see

why would you keep searching
for stars in the shadows
when there’s already a sun
shining in your sky?

I’m standing here, thinking of you, while the
wind blows through my hair and the sea creeps
ashore to kiss my toes. The scent of salty
ocean air is soothing, but the ache of
missing you lingers still. I can see the
sun setting in the distance. The soft
oranges and yellows remind me that endings
can be beautiful, no matter how much I
wish the sun would stay just a little while
longer. As the sky begins to fade to a
somber shade of blue, I close my eyes and
allow my mind to focus on the white
noise of crashing waves, praying
that when I open them, the sun will have
risen, and you will be standing here beside me.

i am
monday nights filled with
candlelit journal entries
and sipping hot tea while
watching rain bounce off
the roof and open windows
in autumn and messy hand-
written letters and white
tees and cuffed jeans and
pb&j; with the crust cut
off and folded origami
cranes and watching the
sun rise while everyone
else is tucked away in
their beds and midnight
car rides and candid smiles
and lists written in blue
ink and wildflowers and
mountains and birds singing
and books and movies that
make you cry and nicknames
and flannels in the winter
and soft music and loud
music and moments recorded
only by memory and pumpkin
pie and forever stamps
i am all the little things
and if you don’t make an
effort to understand why i
love all the things i love
you will never understand
me

she was like
        a wilting flower
drained of all things
that kept the others upright

he was like
        a rushing brook
who saw her crumpled and tired,
crowded by overgrown weeds,
and wanted nothing more
than to clear the earth around her
and see her bloom again

so he took all he had
        and poured it into her
and when finally the pinkness
had returned to her cheeks
        she looked back at him
        and saw that

he was now like
        a withering shrub
frail and planted in dry clay

and despite the deep conviction
she had in her heart to restore him
        like he had restored her
all of her best efforts
left her with with exposed roots
and dirt beneath her fingernails

he wouldn’t let her stay
        to continue to try
        to quench his thirst
so she left him with a watering can
and promised he’d soon find relief

write from your heart: scribble down words
when you’re crying at 2am, or right after
you’ve gotten home from spending time with
someone you love, whenever your emotions
are at their peak. writing is bet when it’s
pure and raw and genuine. don’t filter when you
write, just let your soul flow out on the page.

you clutter my mind
thoughts of you,
thoughts of me with you
thoughts that multiply
and keep me from rest,
that lull me to sleep at night

your words are like butter,
they’re smooth and they’re rich
and they make the bitter bits better

library books;
     the musty smell floods me with
     thoughts of its past readers
     did a girl like me
     run her finger across this line
     as i have?
     will our lines like vines
     ever intertwine?

rainy nights;
     while the tip-tap and dribble of
     droplets hit my windowsill,
     i imagine gusts of wind
     dancing with one another:
     carless and free
     and without destination

light touches;
     the accidental bump of elbows,
     the awkward entanglement
     of fumbling phalanges,
     a gentle squeeze of the hand,
     a comforting gesture that says
     “i am here.”

now reverie this:
     you and i,
     the spines of our books broken,
          our shoulders barely brushing,
               the sound of soft and subtle raindrops
          all things i adore in one simple
      and seemingly endless moment

books, rain, touches, and you

I know it hurts like heavy nothingness, and it feels like everything was pointless. Like it was all wasted time and effort and feelings, avoidable heartache, disposable passion. I know it hurts, and you’re hoping it’s all a lie, that you’ll close your eyes and everything will go back to the way it used to be. But even though it feels impossible now, you will learn to let go. It may take awhile, and it may always sting, but one thing that’s certain is that you will be okay. You’ll learn to breathe again without wincing, you won’t flinch at the sound of her name. First it’ll be a day, then two, then weeks and months and you’ll forget all about the pain. You’ll smile and laugh and it won’t be fleeting or fake, it’ll be real. You are going to be happy again. I know it hurts. I know. It’s okay that it hurts, you’re human. But I promise you, it won’t hurt forever.

currently i am not

     sad

        depressed

               lonely
  
alone

     self-loathing

             insecure
  
heartbroken

     nor breaking hearts


and that makes me feel quite
    
out of
             
               place
because i am surrounded by
  scars

     and tear-streaked (beautiful) faces

  bruised knees drawn up to chests

     dark empty rooms
  broken mirrors

     and trashcans filled

  with crumpled lists of mistakes
and if i could, 
i would take all the

  scars

    tears

     and lonely nights

from the hearts that are broken
                  
                      or breaking
and i wish i could
 cloak The Light i’ve found

    (or did It find me?)

      around cold shoulders

 and wash all the tired feet

   that’ve been blindly stumbling

      in the dark

looking back, i’ve realized
that in the moment
i tend to be anxious and impatient
and i don’t trust
that everything will work itself out
and i ache to know
exactly what is waiting for me
around the corner
   will i alter my circumstances
   or will my circumstances alter me?

i mindlessly allow myself to become faithless
and although i’ve overcome so many obstacles,
my eyes become fixated on the present
and i forget to take a step back
and reflect on my past

everyone always says,
“don’t look back,”
but i think it’s important
to remember where you once stood
and recognize how far you’ve come

i know i’ve changed
and i know i will continue to change
  
so why at 2am on a monday night
do i get stuck believing
that things will always be the same?

it feels as if
i'm the one
always chasing
after someone

my lungs are burning
and my heart is tired
i want to collapse
and loll here forever

let the flowers
bloom all around me
as i leave an imprint
in the grass

maybe someone
will gaze upon the blossoms
and mistake me for a lily

the scent of incense mixed with rain is diluting the redolence of missing you, but not matter how many stormy nights i spending reading and listening and trying to find contentment in silence and simplicity, i will forever see your name between every line, hear your voice in every song, feel the absence of your presence in every moment spent alone. you are with me, you are with me, you are with me. you are always with me.