the wind wails
through open windows
the seatbelt unlatched
as i watch
my insignificant life
go by at
110 mph.

i’m honestly glad
i never showed you a poem
you didn’t deserve that
part of me.

being on the shore
and looking out at the water
is so different
from being on the water,
looking towards the shore.

i’m under the influence
of the night,
darkness is my drug.

i thought i could like you
but i only really liked the chase
i reeled you in
but when i caught you
you were released
after all, there are plenty of other
fish in the sea.

insert clever metaphor
and then shake your head
put it in a book
placed beside your bed
proceed to forget
when a better one comes instead

i’m just another
broken storyteller
hoping my words
will glue me back
together again

i opened my mouth
and shots were fired
words are my choice
of weapon and i
found my smoking gun.

the thing about a
bad record on repeat is
after a while you start
to like it.

i’m an open book.
my words are bold and
forever imprinted on my skin.
some people don’t dare
to look close enough to see them,
others misinterpret them,
but they’re still there
unchanged.
one day i hope you’ll look closer,
read me, & understand.

the world is so
small
until it’s
you
i want to run into…

it hailed today,
my eyes scanned grey skies
for glimpses of blue
that were not there.

the fog rolled in
and hovered over my city’s
streets.
the trees rustled with
chilled winds that bit skin
harshly.
the moon whispered it’s
secrets to me and i
cried.
the loneliness crept in
sinking it’s teeth into my
bones.
the time has come
for me to leave home.
goodbye.

he wants everything
i have to give
except for me

if looks could ****
i'd be a mass murderer

to me, the rain sounds
like a reminder
that i’m stuck in this town.
seattle’s a drain and
i’m going down
drowning.

I lost the keys
to the world I knew
and I felt scared because
I could never return
but then I took comfort
simply in knowing
someone else had found them
and they felt home again.

I hate being a writer…
Inspiration does not understand time,
or wait for me to grab a pen and paper.
It does not care that it’s inappropriate to
scribble feverishly in most circumstances;
like sorry I should be working but
I’ve just gotten the idea for lyrics to a song.
I know you’re in the shower but
this poem has to be written.
Oh you’ve just woken up from a nightmare?
Let’s write a ******* novel.
I do not control my words, my words control me.

my mama shot up
them dollar bills
and my daddy he drank
them away

I think ghosts
are a beautiful creation
we use to fill up ugly,
empty spaces.

i would never tell you this
but i have a favorite towel,
one that you left at my house
a sunny summer day
long ago when we went to
wild waves and we got stuck
on a ride together.
i’ll never forget how you feigned
disinterest in the questions you asked me, while your eyes lit up with fires. the last time i saw you
was when you got back from
europe, you reached to smooth down my skirt that
was flowing in the wind and
i gasped as your hands starting at my waist, trailed down to my hips.
struck silent you told me you had
never seen me so quiet.
maybe that’s why you sat across
from me at the dinner table
and offered me the last of your drink with a smirk and a wink…
leaving me hoping that you’ll
forget more than a towel next time

i like myself
the most when
i’m not being
wreckless.
so why do
i hate myself
when i’m being
careful?

they say the grass is always greener
on the other side
but honestly i’ve never seen
green grass
in this city of mine

you make me
mad as a hatter
i have fallen
down the rabbit hole

i heard your name in the
whispers of the wind,
turned around to check
if in fact it was you taunting me
but alas, twas only the trees
spinning their tall tales
and me wishing for
a happy ending.

This change is not like the others because it is different in a bad way.
One day has gone by already.
I’m another person.
Confused by the blink of an eye,
The twitch of a smile.
No longer a change…

took two pills
took two shots
felt numb
felt sorry
wired
tired.

subconsciously you’re always there, bleeding into my words
like you’re entitled to those as well… it’s as if the grip on my heart
was not enough for you,
so you grasped onto my brain
and made my thoughts your own.

you never really cared about me,
i was there for show.
you looked at your trophy daughter
like “oh i’m such a good father”
i’m just sorry that it
took me so long
to catch on to what
was your plan all along
to use me and leave me
well you got your wish dad
now you’re gone

i curled up next to you
and murmured sweet nothings
into your ear
so you wouldn’t hear the sound
of my fragile heart
breaking

you are the rain in june,
it’s funny how lovely
a nuissance can be.

slap my ***
and call me baby
throw me against the wall
and kiss me gently
**** me hard
and tell me that you love me

life threw me lemons
and i took them appreciatively
with good intentions
i saved them and kept them fresh
but when it came time to make lemonade
i found my pitcher cracked
my sugar had all been given away
and everyone was craving apple juice

my throat swells like the ocean
tides of tears and salty sea spray
with the pressure of waves
my eyes well until filled to the brink
they leak streams of sadness
cascading down my face

pulling apart this forget-me-not
petal by petal i say
“he loves me, he loves me not”
on the last petal i ask,
“does he love me?” he does not.

do not try
to mend his
broken heart with
your love because you
will end up the broken one

on the corner of bell
i questioned who i was
in comparison to this big city
i’m an ant on the bus
trying not to get squished
i stood next to the space needle
and it felt infinite while i was momentary
i was lost like a penny
that rolled into the streets
worthless and forgotten
seattle’s a drain
and i’m going down
drowning

let’s get high and
pretend everything is
alright

if karma’s a ***** then love must be a ******* *****.

I felt my heart flutter around in my chest like a bird in a cage that has just learned it could fly

roses are red
violets are blue
do i really have to
write a poem for you
to realize that
i want to *******

the truth lies within
the lies you tell
your eyes do not
match your words
i see ice
through your fire
and i know, my dear
that underneath
that calm exterior
is a scared child
spinning webs
and hoping for the best
you’re in too deep
but i know, my dear
i know

if tomorrow starts without me
leave me be
the present is a nightmare
my future is but a dream.

my stomach is now
a graveyard
you killed all of
the butterflies

i am a wilted rose.
once beautiful and blossoming,
life was fragrant.
worn by the days past,
my petals float away.

only when i laugh do i realize i’ve been dragging my heart on the ground

you try so hard
to be gentle
but we both know
all your kisses
leave scars

cold medicine and cold feet
half lidded eyes, she’s half asleep
wendy’s waiting for her peter pan
dreaming they’re together in neverland

my mum told me
not to give advice if i
couldn’t take it myself.
she didn’t get the irony.

my surroundings
match my mind
the clutter in my
room coincides
with the crap
in my brain
why clean when
you can ignore?
my mental breakdown
should arrive around
the time when
you can no longer
see my floor