~~
happiness hums in the quiet light,

laughs that bloom without a why,

the warmth is caught

in passing glances-

bare tlfeet dancing through the sky

all these feelings,

tangled and small,

easily labelled as one;

happy.

~~
grief doesn't knock-

it slips in

wearing her perfume,

that strong vanilla scent

it sits beside me in silence,

and stays longer than memory.

~~
her absence is a hum

beneath the streetlight.

it slips through my curtains -

silver,
never soft enough

to hush my thoughts.

give me a break.

...

her name is a wind,

caught behind my ribs,

blowing through

the rooms i built for her

but never locked.

...

every breath feels borrowed,

taken -

like she left it behind

by accident.

like her smile,

still living in the quiet

between my heartbeats.

...

the bed forgets

how to hold me right,

how to put me to sleep.

some nights,

loneliness is a second pillow.

other nights,

it’s her voice -

curled up

where my dreams should be.

but they aren’t.

~~
talk to me.

stop staring from afar

i don't want stolen glances-

i want us.

i want your love.

i want your hand in mine.

...

i don't need to see you

across the room

laughing with another man

why couldn't it be me?

the girl you stare at

watch from afar-

making sure she's okay

quietly,

making sure she's not

seeing anyone else

you should talk to me

talk to me

instead of watching

instead of wondering

making sure

im not taken

im here

i just want

to be spoken to

by you.

~~
we still talk-

only in echoes now

you send memes

instead of midnight thoughts

or how your mum finally said

"im proud of you"

...

our laughter-

it used to fill rooms

theatres when we watched a comedy

but now-

it just barely stirs the surface

and i think

we both feel it

...

there's a silence between us

it hums

between messages

the long pauses

they don't even ask to be broken.

no fight,

no storm,

just the soft unraveling

of something

that was once knotted tightly.

...

maybe that's

how some tides go-

not crashing

just quietly

pulling back

pulling away softly

without a sound

~~
i don't miss her per se

not really-

not the way she stirred her coffee counter-clockwise

or how she spoke my name

ever so softly

like a secret

no one else could hold

...

i miss the feeling

of her-

that imagined life

woven in between shared glances

and almosts

the home i built

in her soft

gummy smile

before i saw the cracks

...

i miss what never even happened

the parallel version of us

the ones who stayed.

is that still missing her?

or just missing

being wanted

by someone

who never really could?

...

my ache has no address

no home

yet it answers

to her name

every time

like it's all i know

like she's all i know

~~
i hated poetry

always dreaded it-

writing it

and reading it

i thought it was just word *****

but made pretty

with italics,

because it never made sense.

...

then i turned fourteen,

got a job,

lost friends,

lost family members,

grades dropped,

everything shifted.

i started listening to spoken word on spotify-

to quiet my brain

for a minute or two

...

but i understood them

maybe it was maturing...

or just... feeling more?

all i know is-

my brain flipped a switch

now i write

now i enjoy it.

...

i don't know why i ever hated

something this honest

something this messy

this beautiful.

~~

it’s funny how people grow apart —

one day you’re laughing,

the next,

you’re not texting

or calling

or sending dumb memes

...

a girl i used to know

stopped calling one day

sent a birthday text —

like a ghost with good manners

i haven’t seen her in months,

she’s an old friend.

...

maybe it’s just the cycle of things.

maybe we’ll find our way back.

but that doesn’t make it hurt

any less.

~~
the moon is a whisper

on my bedroom wall,

she's ten times louder in my head

...

her name is a tide

it pulls,

it tugs,

it etches itself

on the inside of my eyelids

...

every blink is a memory i didn't ask for

her laugh-

uninvited

but welcome

always

...

the bed is too big

for one body and this much longing

some nights

sleep forgets me

other nights

she replaces it

~~
she laughs into her girlfriend's shoulder

but watches me like a secret

like she's holding her breath-

a sigh of relief

in the shape of something new

and i see it-

the way her smile trembles

when our eyes catch,

like she's just met a truth

she wasn't looking for,

as she turns back to her girlfriend

the girl

who isn't me.

~~
we never speak

just glance

across italian class

across the corridor

across everything we don't say

...

she sits beside.. him

laughing loudly as he kisses her cheek

but her eyes flick

they always do

to me.

the girl sitting alone

head in a book

...

we trade seconds

like stolen notes

neither is brave enough

to unfold

to admit

and maybe in some other version of today

those glances would have been hands

~~
to be a teenager is to be in those social media group chats

to be a teenager is to know the hot goss, to know everyone's life

to be a teenager is to gush over boys and giggle when they look at you

to be a teenager is to be reckless, and funny, and happy

it's a social norm

it's known that if you don't do any of that, you're left out

...

so no, I'm not in the group chat with the funny name

no, i don't know the hot goss on jenny and tyler

no, I don't like any boys — i'm trying to figure out my sexuality

no, i don't like to be reckless, i'm not funny and...

i'm not happy

but maybe being a teenager isn't just that-

maybe it's the quiet, chaotic, messy in-betweens

maybe it's the questions with no answers yet

maybe it's the becoming, not the being

.....right?