I think the thing that fascinates people the most about shooting stars is how fleeting they are. They are here one second and gone the next. They are relatable. Life is here one second and can be taken the next. Memories and moments are here one second and then gone the next. Shooting stars are rare and uncertain. They are beautiful and unique. They are a glimpse into something terrifyingly unknown. They are home to our wishes and dreams. They are far away and distant, surreal entities falling through the night sky. They are adrenaline rushing through serenity. They make us ask questions. They make us calm. They give us hope. But most importantly they bring a smile to our face, maybe when we need it the most. So make a wish.

when does familiar
become boring and mundane?

when does home
become a place we once knew?

when does life
move on?

where do we go from here?

it was the kind of heat
that slicks your skin
and dampens your clothing,
matting it to your body

but i kept on walking

each step was another day closer

15
14
13
12

the edge was getting closer

11
10

unbearably hot
but somehow comforting,
like a blanket
it engulfed me
and it started to feel okay
to be exposed

9
8
7

i could hear the waves
getting louder
as they crashed onto the rocks
spewing foam up the sides of the cliff

6
5
4

the baby carriage was getting harder to push,
as i had loaded it with more
at each step

3
2

my mothers tears,
some naivety,
thoughts of looking back,
fear,
anxiety,
questions

1

things that i didn't need anymore
swelled in the buggy
and the day was here
to let them go

the drop was steep
and unrelenting

0

with a swift push,
i covered my eyes
and listened to it fall
as i rose
into the sky
higher
and higher
and higher

goodbye
to everything holding me back
my destination,
new and uncharted,
was all that was on my mind

and as i looked out
over the Pacific Ocean
the fear of saying goodbye
became nothing
but a shipwreck in my past,
a reminder that
it is so much easier to say hello
and welcome each new experience
with reckless abandon

and sometimes i need to tell myself
to stop being so literal

if i can learn
to write words,
like Picasso
created art

beautiful and abstract

then they will become mine
and theirs

a story
deciphered in a million different ways

one time i got lost
in the craziness of this world,
i took one wrong turn
and ended up at a dead end.

i walked a few more blocks,
grew a few more years older,
learned a little more
but ended up at the same dead end.

i banged my fists against the wall,
there had to be another way.
but when i looked back all i saw was pain
and when i looked forward all i saw was the wall.

people tried to tell me who i was
and i believed them.
i lost myself
to this dead end.

my hands were bruised,
exhausted and drained.

what is hope i asked,
when there is nothing to hope for?
what is glee,
when there is no reason to be happy?
what does it feel like to be accepted,
when fingers only point out flaws?

i thought i knew the answers
but if no one else in this world does
then it’s hard to believe they are true.

i got lost
in this world,
and need the directions to get back home.

you drank
from my glass of desire
and left it half full,
in my dreams

magnetic,
there is an unexplainable pull
slowly
drawing us closer,
i wish

moments
echo in my mind,
telling me what could
be
telling me what i
want

snapshots
of us,
together

we do it all
go everywhere
tell
everything

my body aches,
every muscle tense,
as i try,
*i try so hard,
to give you a face

i see the writings in the bathroom stalls,
carved into dying trees
and wept into sepia letters

they give me hope
that
someday
you will be far from
faceless

life spins around you, never slowing down. there is always a new problem, a new delight, a new baby, a new wedding, a new movie, new drama and on and on and on. but sometimes, you put your headphones on and completely escape. you slip into another reality. where all of the tar, all of the stuff inside of you, holding you together or tearing you apart…it slowly melts away. and you feel light.

perfectly content. like you just practiced yoga and all of those toxins are completely washed away. or you took a 30 minute power nap, and you feel relaxed and refreshed. or you just jumped off of a dock into the ice cold water for the first time that year. the sun is shining down on you, and your eyes are closed. the air slowly wisps through your hair. and you let out a large satisfied sigh.

or maybe it just tore your heart out. but you need to listen to that song, that artist. because they have been through it too. the heartache of losing someone that they loved dearly. through the pain of death or a broken relationship or just simply losing touch. life happens but it hurts. and they make you feel like you are a part of something. you are no longer alone. the words describe exactly what you are going through. they understand you. and listening to them hurts and heals at the same time.

so you say thank you. to the melody, the harmony, the instruments, the voice, the lyrics, that one crescendo that sends chills up and down your spine, the fans cheering in a live recording, the strum of an acoustic guitar. thank you.

ghosts ran down the halls
i heard their footsteps
echoing
echoing
echoing
in my mind

i hate the word cried
and the implication of that word
but i cried
because those ghosts
reminded me of what i could have been
and do not make me proud
of who i am

my confidence
is in shambles,
scattered across my bedroom floor
every broken shard
telling me that i’m stupid
“you stupid,
dumb,
ungrateful,
naive little girl.
you are NEVER
going to amount to anything more”

and sometimes those ghosts
become real
murmured quietly (unrelenting)
from the lips
of friends
of strangers
of teachers
of demons
ripping at my being
and telling me i’m not worthy

but i am
I am
I AM.

and who the **** is to tell me that i’m not.