And when it rains
it pours
in that little mind of yours.
So you take your thoughts
and hang them out to dry
in the form of a poem.

i believe i grew into my age
when i realized that cavities are holes
and not sugar filled teeth. my heart
has cavities; and i must admit her
lips were sweet.

and now we’re standing in a dark room full

of colors and we left our morals in the bowl

with our only means of leaving. we started 

singing lyrics to songs we didn’t know,

but we got lost in the beat so nothing

else really mattered; we became our own beat

and you couldn’t help but smile at my

mistakes because i laughed at yours.

and when you leave, you couldn’t help

but care for my safety and i couldn’t 

even make you smile but mine was sufficient

enough. i can give you heaven, darling.

and it’s just so hard to think when my brain

is full of making pictures about how the sky

would look in your eyes

and how the ocean smells

on your breathe and how the sun looks 

when it alters your hair. tell me

when it’s appropriate that i hold your skin

without wandering wallowing away with

nowhere to head but the top of mine.

play with my words and pick out each syllable

you hate and throw it in the ocean, i need to

hear the waves speak to me at least once.

hold on to my memories because

i want your dna on them, i want to know what it

feels like to intertwine you within my brain.

he runs his fingers up and down her
arms, playing with her veins like they were
guitar strings; the same way i showed him
how to do that in senior year. i can swear
that the days are dark but the light
in him is just enough to brighten
the smile on the girl that he loves. this is the day
i confessed the november tragedy
(i still remember her voice). he simply
looked me in my dilated eyes and told me that
he couldn’t empathize with me, but i just didn’t even
know if i wanted it. the train cars are my father’s
lies and the tracks are my mothers teeth; separated
by a mere four feet gap that i don’t think i see in my
house anymore.

god forgive my parents,
they know not what they did
or what they did to me.

girl swirls dreams in her drink.
boy spills ink on the carpet.

they swing below an oak;
laugh and dream, kiss and consider.
their feet curl, intertwine,
touch along the fallen leaves.

in hands and time
is the condensation of what is said to be true love.
only they don’t know.

later that night;
they drink and cuss, they fight and ****.
their feet curl, intertwine,
play at the end of the sheets.

they warm.
boy writes librettos,
girl reads them,
together they cook delicious dishes.

girl disappears into the distance,
one day.
& boy spirits away,
to the elephant burial grounds.

days,
months,
years later, they run into eachother on the streets
of a northwestern city.
smile mostly,
say not much.

boy has his poetry.
girl has her *******.

A mountain
Faced of earth
Iron at its core
A tip like a blade
Earth at its peak no more

A great iron wall
To hold in its place
A bustling palace
With no human king

Cities surround
Low to the ground
As they envy the mound
The king of trade
And the endless supply

When approached
The palace not dare
To give even the slightest
Evil stare

"Take what you will"
Say every wise man
"For we are not unfair,
No war should be declared"
Say every wise soul

Every city takes
As much as they will
Some leave in its place
Food or things of great taste

But the strength of iron
Is to be unmatched
So city upon city
They all attacked

Not one city
Is to be left bare
Each with its own
Scar or tear

There was but one place
Left to thrive
The palace among
The cities that die

An unspoken agreement
That the palace be kept
For its people never left
With such great source
They must have one great force

When cities collapsed
And lands lay bare
The cities that remained
Thought it unfair
One little palace be left to stare

The suniest day
Brighter than the rest
The iron tip
Looked its best
A reminder of the palace gift

I realized it was not your job to keep me afloat, so I stopped looking for places in conversation where you said something shallow and I tried to add depth. I stopped saving the text messages you sent past 3 AM because those words were not formed with love for me to cling on to, no, they were baited lines waiting for me to bite. Hook, line, and sinker I surfaced gasping for breathe in unfamiliar air. Writhing around in my discomfort, hoping you would throw me back into the water rather than watch me struggle. They never tell you how many fish in the sea are actually sharks waiting to sink their teeth.

I'm just here
Standing on a street
Staring into the gaslights
Trying their hardest, like me
To push back the grim.