the walls cave in quick
my wrists sink into the bed
the lights are flashing red
i guess this is the end

your lips, they worshipped
me a century ago
but now, they leave bruises
treasure maps along my throat

hospital white walls
but the floor's littered with cigarettes
and underneath these cold sheets
is a familiar sense of regret

"sorry," you'll say
and we'll make up again
"sorry," you'll say
and i'll come back again

in a single heartbeat
i lost sight of our surroundings
everything fell into focus

even now, i am tangled in your web
and the only words i had found always held you
on a pedestal, at the foot of which i bled

i wince because you wanted me
to love you tenderly and tirelessly,
but tragically for you, all you ever did

was waste my precious time. so, sure,
you can twist my words, do it for
your own self-assurance, but i will

note yours down accurately, for my
own sanity and art; i can handle being
publicly contempted, but we both know,

deep down, you are still attempting
to be something you are so clearly not

i sit and watch you and wait like a dog
always just two steps behind you and
always just begging you for scraps

as if two seconds of your attention
would be enough to fill my empty, empty stomach
as if two mere seconds would ever be enough

but you can't even give that-
my friends say i'm too nice and you just call out my name
and when i see that familiar self-satisfied smile on your face

i just become a bad liar and i just look the other way
and i go back to pretending like your bare minimum
is enough to fix my bellyache

someone i know was stuck in singapore
when her father passed away in china
and lately, i think i've developed a fear
of flying, but for all of the wrong reasons

so while others' stomachs perform flips and
all the engines and babies incessantly whine
and while someone worries about their own death
i sit, wholly at peace with the possibility of mine

but still terrified for everything after you drop me off
i am so terrified to just board this plane and fly away
every time i have to turn and leave home again
i am terrified it will be the last time i see your face

it is one thing
to follow her into the dark

it is another thing
to borrow her fragmented words
and hold her in one hand
and a scale in another
and call it justice

but, by God
(whichever one you’d like to cite today
the kind one, the cruel one, and so on),

it is a whole different thing
to seize her by the neck
and rip the words from her throat
and twist them into cotton *****
and dip them into holy water
and force them back into her mouth
until she can no longer breathe
and no longer live and no longer exist
without drowning in a sense of helplessness
because we, the people, will always remember exactly how
you took your greed and shoved it into her mouth
and down her throat, until you stifled the cries of
‘my body, my choice’ with a book of myths and a man’s voice
weren’t you supposed to be our voice?
what was this all for? was the money so loud that
you could not hear the echoes of pro-choice?
our rage—will it be worth those thirty silver coins?

i would've traded you my heart
for those cheap highway flowers
if we had met in that april night
we could've watched the lyrid showers

perhaps we can just close our eyes
and sleep away this spring and summer
but: i can't take my eyes off you either
you're the sun to my sunflower

you look so happy without me
it feels like i am drowning in regret because
i just wish i could make you smile like that

i wish i could make you smile as you do now
make you laugh as you do, standing next to her
make you happy the way she makes you

you two even have matching necklaces
wearing matching colors, matching
the way we did when we were together

but now your smile matches hers
and that is all that is different
but it makes all the difference

i rewind my watch so many times
grasping the leather for a touch of magic
to bring back all that we once had

the lights illuminate the night sky
and i watch from the carnival ride
reminded of the last time we had stood here

as tonight goes down in flames
i cannot help but hope this is how we die
young and dumb and unafraid

the two of us are both in someone else's arms
separated by a sea and a telephone wire
you would have told me to be brave

if i had told you how much
i hated this stupid santa barbara pier
you might have stayed for centuries

was it not you who said
was it not you who promised
you would be here for me if i called

all i say now is this:
i still see your eyes
in the blue of the skies

i still hear your laugh
bouncing off the high tides
i still hold millions of memories

that play on an infinite loop
fading images of your expression of shock
of you, forever sixteen, never changing

i can still feel your breath
the way you whispered for me to leave
how could i have left?

did you think i could just go home
wash your blood off of my hands
and sleep in a half-empty bed?

i wish i had told you how much
i hated this stupid santa barbara pier
if it meant you could have stayed

seasons are changing
and miracles are coming
do you understand the signs?

(or do you misinterpret them
the same way that i do
every godforsaken time?)

stranded at sea, and i am
surrounded by a lonely blue
with thoughts as my only companions
and guilt for my fallen crew

i bear colors of war against pale blue
sangria red and dirtied white
torn fabric and stained innocence
from choosing myself as the sacrifice

there was a golden age when
i was once hailed as a hero
but those days have ended now
delusions shattered by war's arrow

all i am now is a captain without a crew
a pirate with sinking treasures and ship
slivers of the person i once was
i have taken one too many hits

all i have is this broken, grey compass
the needle spins wildly, unpredictable, like the sea
i have finally lost sight of true north, or
perhaps it is time the world has finally lost me

change sweeps me through the sea
rinse, scrub, dry so, and repeat
gone the stains of another life
reborn again as a simple someone, just me

crimson blood washes into the sea
and a makeshift white flag flutters under the sky
this tattered shirt is all that is left of my fight
i am just another sailor, lost at sea tonight

i'm calling your name
i don't think he notices
but can you hear me?

his body is warm
a heart of gold, but stone cold
fingers trace my skin

hold the dial tones
wrap it tight around my neck
tell me you love me?

i want to hear it
it'd so be easy to fall
for your words again

calling you again
no, you don't have to answer
i just miss your voice

                                voices in my head
                                it’s harder than expected
                                i’ll finish alone

it was a puppy sort of love
but we were young
so it felt much deeper

perhaps it was the reason
why we were so hesitant
to let go and move on

thus, i found myself cutting corners
so i could fit myself into your box
and in the painful process of loving you
i made myself become someone i knew i was not

t/w: violence, death

-

dear little miss dreamer
i'm sorry i couldn't write to you sooner
but yesterday night, i've read all three
each and every one of your letters

your mother sounds lovely
a brave woman, from what you've told me
if your brother comes by downtown
tell him, he's welcome to visit me

you have some big dreams
and i hope i can help them come true
i'm sorry i've been so busy
but i would truly love to meet you

you remind me of my wife
of her dreams when she was your age
we grew up together in center city
like you, she was wise beyond her days

i agree, we need to help kensington
and we've begun taking some small steps
i'm pushing for a new bill to pass
but it'll still take some time to prep

i know you mentioned drugs and violence
and yes, i agree, it's completely true
please stay safe and stay inside
it could help protect you

actually, that just reminded me about kensington
my wife had told me some shocking news
a mother chased to her kitchen counter
a little girl, shot, in the same view

i think she was writing a letter, too
but i don't quite remember who exactly to
it was titled, i think, "dear mister life-changer"
wait, it couldn't be— no, God, please, not you—

please note: t/w: violence

-

dear mister life-changer
how have you been?
i know you never answer
but i wanted to try again

introducing myself for the fourth time
i'm a small girl with big dreams
my dad walked out when i was real young
my mum hopes i'll have an easier living

i'm in kensington, philly
it's not a nice place to grow up
with drugs, gangs, and guns
my older brother once even got mugged

i'm writing from my little closet
my mum said it's for me to be safe
but i hate being alone in this place
it's such a small, empty space

a couple of gunshots outside
it's like this every other night
brother's not home right now
but i sure hope that he's alright

there's a clicking noise
it doesn't sound very nice
i hear footsteps down the hall
they're not mum's, they're too light

mister life-changer, i think that might be my brother
he told me you could make things right
but why don't you ever write back to me?
why don't you ever reply?

i want to tell you my dreams
i heard you can make them come true
just give me one chance, sir
it's worth it, i'll show you

i dream of a big wide world
where i can walk outside and not be afraid
a world big enough for every little brown girl
to skip down sidewalks and enjoy the day

i hope to move to the suburbs
buy a big house for mum one day
buy her leather bags and pretty dresses
and not a single cent she'll have to pay

-

dear mister life-changer
i'm sorry there's blood on this paper
mum's bleeding out in the kitchen
someone shot her at the counter

mister life-changer
they told me to wait
i called the life-savers
they said, just wait

i don't know what to do
so now i'm back to writing to you
will you ever make a change?
will you tell me to wait, t—

i wanted to write like josé olivarez,
to love, plain and simple, and to let
the light in, shamelessly, for all to see

but she wanted a t.s. eliot, maybe a surrealist
portrait, or a picasso to my pissarro, and a tiptoe
around the elephants, for a look into me, endlessly

as if always in search of some deeper, divine meaning,
we parted our ways, but now i no longer feel like me
i have lost my rhythm, though i have not stopped reading

i fall into ignorance; i am called out for perfunctories; so
other than a casual fear of forevers, i now also know: my love
tastes like cheap prose, and an atrophied fondness of writing

do you feel better
now that you are distant
and detached
from every single emotion
you have ever met

the pastel sun pulls
clouds into cotton candy
i think this is love

the roads get wider
these mixed signals and blurred lines
love looks for green lights

the skies burn orange
monarch butterflies fly free
this has to be love

this is it, maybe—
just the closest to lovers
that we’ll ever be

i may be losing my mind but i hate how
our dancefloor is illuminated by streetlights
and your whispers of "i love you"
sound something like a bittersweet goodbye

my friends are all laughing
and the weather has been kind
i am about halfway to happy

and it is okay if i look utterly
atrocious in every picture
you've taken of me

i hate my smile with passion
and almost all of the time
but i like to think that

my smile is most
beautiful and genuine
when it is mirrored

by yours

i will keep skipping stones in the dark until
my feet grow wet and my ears become filled
with the pitter-patters echoing across the pond

will these whispers reach your daffodils that sway so far away?
will your flowers feel the warmth that i offer to the breeze?
will the winds lay mercy on the hope that i hold so close?

so for selfish reasons, i ask you to look away, narcissus:
your love for that reflection has already dug you
a grave deep enough to smother apollo's sun

and i, painted forever as foolish, naive echo—
and i, who have already lost my voice and home—
my love, i cannot bear to lose you, too

who in their right mind
would choose to hide skeletons
in their closets, of all places

my neighbor's backyard looks lovely
i helped him design it
you should know, i am no fool

not quite six feet under
the casket is more white than wood
but grey really brings out her eyes

                               well, won't you look at that?
                               my love's been immortalized
                               in a sepulcher of stone

it took me two years to get back
on a train to the lower east side
back to the starting ground

but when i arrived this morning
in our little corner of this place
it felt something like a ghost town

so many faces fluttered by
but not a single one i recognized
i felt like a stranger in my hometown

i left to chase my dreams of permanence
but now nostalgia and memories ring aloud
and all of our old apartments have been torn down

what is left for my wandering heart?
not you, not home, nothing else in this town so
i bought a ticket for the next train, and i'm leaving now

i never thought that the
big apple could feel so small
and i swear that sometimes
it feels like you never left at all

because, claire, even as you stand
3000 miles across this country
flipping your mic next to the big stars
partying in mansions with big money

it's our love story from so long ago
that echoes down these midnight streets
and it's your voice in your songs—i admit
i listen to them and they still drive me crazy

it's how your voice haunts me
at every single stupid house party
and how your words still remind me
during my every attempt at peace

i begged you to stay even when
you were already walking away
and when i whispered those words
you didn't even know what to say

i'm not the only one who knows that
that one song is about me
and at this point, i'm sure
even my best friends pity me

everyone knows, in fact
you probably even know
since you've moved on now, the real question is:
how the hell do you expect me to ever let you go?

there's this theory, my mom once told me,
that liars are always reincarnated as dogs
i've been thinking a lot about people dying lately
and i've also started counting time in dog years
according to such, it's been about two long dog decades
i don't miss you anymore, and i'm about done grieving you
(you would've just called me out- i'm a liar through and through)
and i found that if i drink enough, you're still here, well and alive
your mom never cries or loops your old playlists when she drives
your dad never comes over to gift me souvenirs from your life
your sister never learns to shape grief into an essay in one night
no, you're still helping her brainstorm what exactly to write
we stay up together, on facetime, stressing the the entire night
and she chooses premed because of a torn ACL, not a torn family
and we spend hours debating if she should submit her SATs
and grief is only ever-so-distant, yet only oh-so-familiar
we have it our way: it is never more than a recognizable stranger
i write you in present tense, you agree: dogs in our next life
i gaslight, i lose my mind, i'm convinced anything's worth a try-
so, how many poems do you think i have to write
for it to be enough to bring a friend back to life?

while all the folks will be off beach-drinking
at ***** cana, or cartagena, or hiking through
a coast and helicoptering blindly into canyons,

i just want to be at home, cooking for you,
studying up new recipes, because i know you
pretend to like my chinese takes on western food

a little more than you actually do; you want me
to be happy, but my happiness stems from your
healing health and your returning appetite, so know:

a smile on your face and a happily-emptied plate
would beat the pride of reaching any himalayan peak
and warm my heart more than any southern sun or beach

i find it stupid that we were taught
two negatives cancel out to be a positive
do two wrongs ever cancel out to be a right?

ages ago, i made two stupid mistakes
hooking up with you in the gallery and losing your number
but i bet you're doing just fine

it's been three years, counting the first
and it's depressing to think about but
my memories have started to fade with time

i can't remember the tilt of your smile
the curves of your dimples or the lilt of your accent
if your hometown was cambridge, quincy, or boston

i can't recall the feeling of your fingers woven through mine
or the warmth of your body pressed against mine
or the way my heart raced from your words

so i'll tuck away whatever's left of the good times
into a little chamber in my heart
let it simmer and boil and wait

until the day we find each other again
i'll keeping looking back and thinking
i'll keep looking back until i realize again

english is a strange language
red is a mesmerizing color
my guitar sounded better when you were playing it

two past events cancel out to form the present
only one of the two mistakes previously mentioned was stupid
and when i said i loved you, i meant it

i write out the letters and
i send them without shaky hands
is this it? is this growth?

mother, my grades do not define me
an A+ will not bring me wealth
see, you’d understand if you asked
if you’d checked in with my mental health

mother, no one should have to prove themselves
self-worth is found in the heart and mind
not in jewelry, clothes, and cars
nor mansions, bars, and wine

mother, life is different now
it’s not how things were in the 90’s
it’s not supposed to be all work and no play
people my age are just teens

mother, *******
can’t you understand, this is Gen Z
let me slow down and waste time
and let things run the way they’re meant to be

mother, this is my life
not a stock to trade or buy
i’m not a human investment
just a girl trying to live her life

mother, stop controlling me
let me test the limits myself
in a world where experience is needed
let me regret and learn by myself

mother, you need to let go
stop holding the strings over my life
the next time i feel this way
i might just cut the tie

mother, my confidence is at a low
it’s not my mind, but my environment
it’s the way you berate me, call me useless
and shamed me to the place i’m now in

mother, maybe one day i’ll forgive you
for the childhood that you stole from me
for being the main reason why i look in the mirror
and see a worthless, tired girl that's lonely

                           mother, maybe one day, you’ll recognize
                           how you’ve unsuccessfully tried your best
                           to raise a perfect asian daughter
                           but she turned out more bitter than the rest

call it hurricane season
every little fluctuation of the weather
makes my mood change quicker

than the flicker of a flame
my emotions run rampant and free
everything on my mind seeks the thrill of fighting

i’m not afraid of consequences
i hate the works of god and the words of men
i am the eye of my own storm and

the time is coming, the winds are changing
let the sea sweep the world to grey
let the earth bow before me and i will say

"your god is a mere bystander to my chaos
your prayers will remain unanswered
and his words will be left unspoken"

keep in mind, i make no empty promises
i will annihilate you, your people, your lands
destroy your everything with my bare hands

if tomorrow never comes
it must be the end of the world
and i know i won't be ready for afterlife

i won't say a final goodbye
but i know you're the kind of person
who likes defined edges and endings

so i'll settle for a compromise
when you say goodbye, i'll say goodbye
goodbye, that is, until next time

in the morning, i will feign ignorance,
pretending to be fast asleep and unaware
as you pull on your shirt and socks

we should have been theater concentrators, like,
if we never talk about it, it just never happened
you're just so nonchalant, and i'm just melodramatic

and i'm never satisfied unless it's something tragically comic
so tonight, let's pretend to be enemies, let's become lovers,
let's drown in shared regrets, get too familiar with each other

after all, tomorrow, when we wake, it'll all be over
your missing friends and my crushing hangover
will, once again, inevitably, reduce us to strangers

my friend called the other night
all tangled up in a thorny mess
but i found no words that helped

or reassured him as he drove down 95
the voice automated system, his sole companion
the gps signals, amplified his shaky breaths

the scene was so ******
they barely identified his body
is this guilt that sits on my chest?

lapping at my heart like a dog
who sits in silence, waits in silence
for a friend that will never come home

paint—

on my brushes
my jeans
your shirts

on my arms
my fingers
your cheeks—

i'll be working
part-time
at the gallery, and

sweat—

on your neck
your shirt
my hoodie

on your skin
your jaw
my lips—

you'd be looking
at offers
to go pro.

i'll sell my paintings
but checks will only get me
oh so far, so

my wallet would be nearly
empty of dollar bills,
but with you,

my heart would be nearly
full of sunshine,
as long as i'm with you.

hell, i'll buy the
sunshine for you
if i could. and

i'll paint it on the canvas
(acrylic paint, mind you)
and i'll have it hung

up for display,
for you, for the world,
for everyone to see.

i'll come to your DI
games and
cheer for you,

would you come to the
gallery openings
and support me, too?

make art,
make love,
i guess.

i pledge allegiance
to the flag
of the united states of america
and to the republic
for which it stands
one nation, on stolen land,
under a foreigner's god
divided by fear, religion, and greed
ruled by the richest at
the suffering of the poorest
with liberty and justice
to all who may afford it
excluding the women,
the lgbtq+, the non-christian,
and the non-white
god bless america, and
the caricature of democracy
it has become

note: some people may choose
to add at the end, another
"god bless america, and god save us all"

i've been running from the truth
running up an empty staircase
yet somehow i keep spiraling down

i've been searching for love
for a droplet of whatever is left
a symbol of hope to answer my prayers

if i reach the top of these stairs
having finally escaped truth's poena
will you be there waiting for me?

or will it be deja vu, another infinite loop
of my heart drowning in deep waters
as you stand there, watching with a smile

my heart hesitates but my steps are steady
i run from no truth, i already know the truth
things are meant to fall apart

and every time, it is the same
and every time, i am always powerless
just a mere bystander to my own downfall

to love me like how you love your
cheap hmart wine, to sentimentally sip
at me until you are tipsy and having a
good time; and if i have nothing more to
give, set my empty self on a distant shelf—
forever is a paradise, even if to only ever
hear your laughter from the sidelines

i didn't know how angry
a scar could be until i saw
one on myself it was something
like a pocket-sized chilean coast
dragged across my knee disrupting  
and hills still dispersing as an acl
torn but unseen like how the many
excerpts of dreams were wiped clean
the anger is always ephemeral but
it always comes back whenever
i want to feel breeze in hair perhaps
i just miss the delaware river scene
and a long ago when my pencils
moved too quickly for my thoughts
yes indeed maybe i just miss loving
the journey not for the end like the
part where i did not know anything yet
still believed that it was all for the better

how did i romanticize this in such a way
there were no soft whispers, no shy touches
we moved quick, with staggered rhythms

neither of our hips lined up properly
we sounded more animalistic than anything
it was good, alright, a good ****, alright, but

this wasn't quite what i was looking for
lust wasn't quite what i was asking for
you weren't quite what i was hoping for

my mom called, i cried by the dhall, on facetime
been thinking about how lucky we are to be alive
even if to deal with mornings and swollen eyes
even if dad's always on the night shift, even with
this big rift caused by the distance and the lack of time
just because we made out once doesn't mean you're mine
i got glimpses of a pink top, my blanket of a jacket
i bet it would look classier if you were wearing it
but you're distant and cold and partying is getting old
i'm forever out of polaroid film and cheap distractions
so i took an amtrak home, straight from south station
the flight back to boston was short but still exhausting
and when i walk home alone, the silence is unsettling
seems we're both better than i thought at method acting

the sky needs to stop bawling
the weather outside does not help
whatever's happening up in heaven
should have solved itself by now

the storms are lovely, but i am tired
of being alone in a house for four
and here in a bed for two
and the one left behind is always me

the walls are crumbling now
they have been worn down for centuries
rain soaks the earth beneath me
this on my face is rain, not tears, i swear

standing alone in an open field
i am one with the universe
so when the lightning strikes
take me with you

the leaves have fallen
and the clouds are dark
the trees are left with
only branches and bark

you said that you loved me
so I gave you my heart
laid down my armor
and lowered my guard

i gave you my everything
i showed you the scars
that constantly reminded me
that loving was hard

i would have given you the sky
the sun, moon, and stars
the planets and the multiverse
we could have gone so far

how did i go
from all these lovely parts
to crying in silence
for the you-sized hole in my heart?

my love for you will age
like your mother's finest wine
growing only richer with the passing of time

even eve, wise and
pure as she was
saw the beauty in lies

then, would you have
also dared to explore
the great unknown,

to conquer the beauties
and untangle the secrets
that laid beyond eden?

i know that we were young and naïve
and our promises were vague
but i assure you, when i said

"i will love you until the end of time"
i spoke with my whole heart
dangling on a line

lover, take my hand
let me love you inside and out
with your flaws and fears and faults

how could this be wrong
everything is telling me this is right
my heart tells me you are the one

rock my world to its very core
they say the problem is we are too young
my heart says we are old enough to be in love

however hard it might have been for us
God or gods must have planned soulmates
it feels like we were always meant to be

be my lover, be my one, i love you
you who are so beautiful
the moon pales in comparison

come, hold my hand, my lover
give me your heart and i'll offer you mine
let us be alone together, tonight

she's like my midas, incarnated
golden just for me, i know she hates it
but she likes me though
she says

she'll call me baby, call me crazy
when she's the one cursing at me
but she likes me so
she says

and i'll be back everytime
like a sinner drawn to wine
i'll let her touch me, oh
i'll let her drown me in her liquid gold

call it toxic, call it comic
but all i want is this

she's like my midas, her touch is blessed
makes me golden, feeling euphoric
and she loves me so
she says

if this ain't love then what is?

and it's always the same
like a moth drawn to flame
i'll let her touch me, oh
i'll let her burn me 'til we're liquid gold

so she could love me for a bit
hate me for a bit
my love's been being cold to me

so just love me for a bit
i wanna be your *****
and it would feel like gold to me

drunk kissing blurry faces under neon lights
i'm sorry that your party had to end with a fight
but that creep was overstepping everywhere tonight

after sharing reservations about people getting high
your friend won't stop asking for my marly lights
these cigs for aesthetics are going to ruin our lives

debrief time: your parents argue, divorce is in sight
romance is everywhere, you're convinced that i'm blind
hey, out of curiosity, have you ever wished on a satellite?

passports, abstracts, and cigarettes
i swear it was all just for the aesthetics
thin walls, smoke screens, and window tints
we crawled through one just for the hell of it

it's nineteen and nose rings, i got asked for an id
we're twenty-one in jersey, you like my con artistry
i borrowed a street sign and failed to book an uber ride
everything is so much messier than i would've liked

i tired of people pleasing, and you never reply
we don't really need to talk about it
i try my best to not really think about it
said that i'm conceited, hedonistic, manipulative

but some nights i just want to drink until i start to lie
see, if coping was a job and paid an hourly wage
i'd be working overtime, id have a career drive
and i'd be a millionaire after six shots, or maybe five