Pine wafting through the
open layout of our house.
A million needles
waiting to be
swept up or
hidden under the rug.
The curious cat circles the tree
both meant to be wild,
but now domesticated
for the joy of human kind.
Why are we so selfish?

an avalanche of thought
crashing onto my spine.
Burying me with “what if’s “
and scenarios
that are impossible for
fruition.
I take the impact,
you receive an aftershock.
I’m sorry,
I’m sorry,
I’m sorry.
I want the be the heroine in the
novel they write books about,
not the woman that
always needs saving.

Taking off your half faced helmet
To unleash the messy curled
Mop-head of hair
“You need to cut it soon, baby”
I’m too distracted to think
Of trimming those boyish locks.
I remember all the days
I never thought I’d make it out alive.
Half dead for four years
You lit a spark in my mind.
I turn down the ***
I think of you
I think of us.
No high is greater
Than the feeling I have
When I see your smile.
The smile she could never get,
It’s mine now.

one day,
these times of us
sitting on the floor
eating chinese take-out,
will become a distant
happy memory.
maybe we'll upgrade our shoddy bed
to a king size.
maybe we'll have an actual house;
but we'll still find ways to
long for
the past.

but I can recall
the kindness
in your eyes,
and the openness
of your arms.

I stay up waiting
for the sun to rise,
only to be
hypnotized
watching the
moon stride
across the speckled
night sky.

hiding in the dark
a retreat to solitude
the trees hold my hand

the city is frozen over
on the first day of the year.
slow to waking up,
I make a cup of coffee to
warm myself up to the
new year.
I make pancakes in the shape of the numbers
"2021".
I stay home
although the time has reset,
the world is still cold
and there's no place for me
yet.

I kissed you as the flames
danced and popped in the sky,
another moment with you
frozen in time

another moment
passed by

i don't know when it was
that I lost myself.
maybe it last year
or when I left home.
all I know now is
I can't write a poem without
throwing it in the trash,
crumpled and forgotten.
All my crochet projects are being left
unfinished,
hidden under the bed with old clothes and makeup
I don't feel pretty in anymore.

another day spent with the same routine,
wasted.
i put my empty coffee cup in the sink,
crawl under the covers,
and pray I wake up somewhere else.

I yearn to grow and float away
As petals do in the wind
Follow the air
And follow my heart.
I don’t know where I’m going
But I know I will land.

My roots hold me back
Crawling up my frame and pulling me down
Chained
To the earth where I
Started to bloom.

Maybe I’m a lotus.
Dormant in one spot
Being used only when needed.
Blossoming and folding back up
Into myself
its the only home that’s
Permanent.

Earth,
Give me a push in the right direction.
Move the currents and tides
So I can float downstream.
Exhale your winds on my petals
Spinning in the air
Falling towards a new home
Starting my own roots.
I don’t know where I’m going
But I know I will land
Someday

I want to marry you next to a
Field of flowers
On a sunny day with
Thunderclouds looming behind us while the
Ceremony takes place.
I want lightening to strike when we say “I do”
And thunder to clap when we take our first kiss and
Our first steps into
Eternity.

A waterfall next to the reception,
Where the younger kids could swim and play
(If there even were any).
You could dip your feet in, too ,
Or watch me while I float on my back
Living in the moment of love, light
And happiness.
I won’t care if my dress gets wet
Or if my makeup smudges
We’ll take pictures barefoot playing in mud;
Because that’s what our love is: fun,  simple, and whatever we want it to be.

it’s been almost 2 years
since we last spoke.
you are still up on your hill
on top of your mountain
when i’m now down in the valley
it’s not as cold here but
the wind is a whisper of you
that seeps into my dreams
here lately and i wish i could
write this to you on notebook paper
and send it in a cardboard box along with
the hoodies i didn’t mean to steal
the basketball shorts and the
muscle shirt with your last name on the back
that i once thought would also
be mine.
but it remains in my storage
where i also keep the memories of you
in the attic of my being
behind promises that inevitably went
unkept and
closed doors where our secrets lie
together.
so here we are, comfortable without each other like we never thought we would and
loving other people like we never thought we could.
so i’ll meet you in my dreams until
you stop coming by
and that night maybe i will be tucked into the arms of my lover or
alone with cold bed sheets
but
my first love,
i will never completely forget you.

i did not want to say goodbye
not entirely, at least.
but i had to
i had to
i had to


and look at us now.

step into the cold night
my boots crunching in the snow
to the spot behind my house
where i can smoke without feeling
completely judged.
listening to soft beats in my ears
my hands are cracked and cold
lifting the fire to my teeth.
the stars are out, though
and i can see the moon above the trees.
i’m by myself in this corner of
siding and snow
my feet are starting to freeze to the ground
but somehow it’s worth it
when i can see the faint snowfall
in the light of the midnight street lamp.
6 minutes of crisp freedom and solitude
i think i might have another one.

Imagine a little girl. Rosy red Chubby cheeks, blonde hair with bangs
That her mother curled that morning
With bright blue eyes always looking up
Towards the sky.
She loved her toys.
(stuffed animals, dolls)
She spent a lot of time playing
Alone since her brother was older
And her parents either were sleeping
Working
Or 'too busy to play'
(though this wasn’t true every time.)
A heart full of wonder,
She spent her free time singing along to her CDs
And making up stories
To commentate her toy playing.

She wanted to be a 'pop star'.
She wanted to be a vet.
She wanted to be an author.
She wanted to see the world.
She loved learning and waking up
Every day to moms sing-song voice
"good morning sunshine!"

However her parents
Unlike the girl
Were adults, and very realistic
And didn’t encourage the girl
As much as she probably needed it.
So when they sat both the little girl and the brother down,
2 days after Christmas,
(the tree was still up)
And told them they were splitting up,
She ran to her room and cried and cried and wrote in her
Pink fuzzy diary how she didn’t understand why
They could ever do that to her.

When the packing day came,
She still couldn’t believe it.
Given a large bag to begin cleaning out the room,
She filled it to the brim with stuffed animals,
Handed it to her aunt and said "I'm done."

Twelve years later
The families have grown
Some strings have been cut,
But others retied.
She struggled last year.
Depression, anxiety, you know the mix.
But she's now realizing
Instead of hating the past
She will be grateful for it and learn
From it
To figure herself out
To grow and bloom
Like she once never thought she would ever be
Able to.

fire between my fingers
rain splashing in through the
crack in the window.
even though we smoked after we made
love i still crave
tobacco bursting into
my lungs
but i promise
you are enough
to always knock the wind out of me.

twenty is looming over me as a shadow does the field
i feel its chill on the tips of my
hairs
my brain keeps thinking
aheadfuturetomorrowwherewillibein5years?
and my heart keeps telling it to calm down.
f ocus on t o da y.
my brain won’t let go so my heart
speedsupandupandup
with all the thoughts occurring at once.

i can’t keep up.

caught in the wind
stuck in a levy
always on the border of
in between.

you are
an anchor
a brick house to call home
always pulling me down when
my kite strings start to drift too far away

fidgeting is my specialty
if there was an Olympic competition for anxiously
biting nails to the bone,
I would take the gold.

my biggest fears revolve around
other humans;
talking on the phone is like piloting
a fighter plane towards the city
and you know it is proven
you will crash into a skyscraper
with a hundred different daycare centers
within its walls.
I know that's a terrible thing
but now you know how I feel.

I have this disability,
the ever-present feeling of fear
radiating from my core to my tips.
Its un-ignorable,
i can't wait to wake up one day
and not remember what it is like
to want to go back to bed and hide.

Bless these ******* mornings
After getting a mere 3 and a quarter hours of sleep
Not only does the sunshine wake me up,
    There's also the lingering scent of cat **** in the air
And my boyfriend's elbow in my face
Or it’s the sound of him almost knocking the **** over
    That probably shouldn’t have been left on the nightstand
In his sleep.

Bless these ******* days.
The ones where I can't seem to get enough sleep; and later that same evening
I work for another 6 hours.
Then there's class, which depending if I skip or not usually takes up most of my afternoon.

The weather is getting colder and like the insects in the coming months, my motivation will die.
The snow will bring the sadness, I'm sure of it.
The holidays once again always ensue with the worst
of my anxieties, some of my repressed events and feelings
start to materialize
and even though I have time before this passes
I am wracking my brain thinking about it
exciting my nerves and wearing myself out.
and this is just all too much for me -
how will I survive?

i wish i could get you
out of my head;
but how does one forget a love
so sweet it
left a touch of sugar
on the tongue


sometimes the simplest
most innocent things
become so beautiful.  

i left behind your ocean
hued eyes and found
myself in the arms of a new
kind of love.
i guess i didn’t want to feel
any more rooted than
i already was.

lately i’ve been catching myself
reminiscing about little moments
without looking at the big picture.
i see the blue ocean tint in my
rear view mirror,
although leaving is bittersweet
it’s best we go our separate ways
explore, grow, learn
maybe we’ll meet again some day.

the roads always take us
back to west virginia.
the hills we climb lead
to impeccable views,
beautiful hidden scenery
only we knew how to find.
highways became one-lane roads
the gravel washing out,
half-a-million potholes
when you drive on a hillside
like that,
the same rush comes
that you get when you look
over the side of a rollercoaster cart.
but when you’re with your best friend,
the rush turns to comfort.
“if we were to fall off the side of this cliff, I’m glad I’m with you.”  

14:23 5/31/2018

i keep looking for creativity in the mountains i drive
through & the skies above me but i'm starting
to realize it comes more from within.

i'm hoping to write more poetry
this summer, every year i
live i want to have written
more & more

this will be painful, each sentence a bee-sting.
it means opening up & digging down
deep to my roots and farther
beneath.  

to throw a rope-ladder
into my soul and
excavate every chasm that
makes me who i am.
unzip my skin to let my bones show,
carved into my ribcage,
'this is me.
this is happiness,
hurt
pain
anxiety
love. '
a mess of emotions crowded
into the same small
room.

these are my back roads,
my alleys that lead to the
backyard of my mentality.

words are a form of transportation.
leading down streets of confusion
and pain
that bring me to your doorstep.
i always end up here,
your arms, my home.

Like the ***** laundry
my thoughts keep piling up
like all the empty mugs
taking over my room
the stress is
taking over my mind.

I have the tools to clean up
I have my washing machine
and a dryer,
a sink and my two hands
but nothing will work,
there's a short in my system.

so I keep rebooting
but I'm left with
the same bugs.
so all I can do is sleep and
dream of a time when
things weren't as real
as they are now.
I wish I wasn't as real.

this is my poem for the day
this is me laying next to you
wishing you were
inside me
instead.

slightly ******
i lay here
im wrapped in my Mothers afgan
composed of left over yarn
the colors range
this was her very first one.

i feel paws on my skin
a purr at my arm.

i cant wait to spend another evening
napping with you
and our kittens

I wanna smoke all my cigarettes
down any drink I can find
remember how I used to call you mine
but you were never really mine

i take that pill
as a substitute
for ****.

it's not an exact
replica, though.
the effects are

almost completely different.
my drowsiness is more
zombie-like

rather than
playful and
light-hearted.

the high makes
my stomach turn
not growl with hunger.

I don't want to sound
like a cliche hippie,
but I prefer the herb.

the night has covered the town.
dim streetlights line the edges of sidewalks
it's the only light we have
this deep in November
the clouds hug the moon and hide her
from our world
and the raindrops fall and kiss our cold blushed faces
this deep in November
frost has yet to make an appearance
but whistles and whispers that it's nearby
this deep in November
the only warmth we find is in each other
bodies under blankets
we heat ourselves with love
this deep in November

I like being the last to close my eyes
before a kiss
so I can get one last glimpse of those eyes

this familiar taste of yearning
leaves a bad aftertaste on my tongue
it tastes like yours
soft and warm

its missing you
its the thought of being held
in your arms
on  nights like these
when all my focus is
directed towards your texts
and your voice
that makes me forget about
my own existence

we have time set aside in the future
but this is now
and right now
i am missing you.

The air is thick and heavy here
I've lost the familiar feeling
Of cold, wet moss under my
Bare feet.

My lungs are full.
There are no clear signs of a storm,
The leaves haven't exposed their
Light backs,
And the clouds remain white, pure, and puffy.

Cicadas wind up and scream their song
Under the blazing southern sun.

When I look towards the horizon
The mountains have faded out of view.
I'm no longer enclosed by miles and miles of appalachia.
Instead all I see is sky ---

The soft blue tint of Georgia.

on my sheets
and in my clothes

warm on my neck
and on my lips

soft on my skin
and cold at my hips

ever-present and lingering
on my soul that you
hold so gently
in the palms of your hands --

so delicately.

we resort to empty fields of grass
and call them our safe places.
my home is where a young beagle chases butterflies around her circle of dirt past the clothesline
and an old German shepherd refuses
the idea of privacy
and comforts me when my mother’s old Victorian house is too big for comfort.

we form bouquets from roadside wildflowers.
from susies, queen Anne’s lace and half-naked dandelions.

the front room is first to catch the eastern sun.
My grandmother leaves flowers on the window sill


and i can hear bumblebees from my bedroom.

Before you even meet her,
    you know she's different.
You see it in her name, her eyes;
    the way she walks.
She carries confidence on her shoulders,
    a song in her hips
to which she'll always stay on beat
    with.

Her eyes will remind you of the Earth,
    with wings "so sharp they could **** a man".
Her will is as strong as her hands,
    for they have held so much pain,
but yet have mended everyone but
        herself.

You can never get enough of her.
   She's like a song you play on
repeat and never get tired of,
   if you have good taste in
           music.

She's either your best friend or a
   stranger,
and though she's an open book,
   only a few can read
between the lines.

I tend to get distracted by nature
too often.
I stare at sunsets while driving,
       almost swerving into the other lane
    wanting to follow it.
I ignore my teacher's lectures just to
  peer outside the window;
the leaves seem greener when it rains.
Even as I'm writing this I keep glancing
behind my back towards the window,
  after every line

My favorite thing to do
   is to lay on the grass,
eyes towards the sky,
           watching the clouds roll by
   imagining I'm lying on top
                 of one
           instead.

I hope my words reach you.
I hope they pace through your mind
and make you think of
who you are and
what you did
all the time.
I hope you read them.
then read them again.
and again.
over and over until you drown in them
when the metaphors and the tear-stained
phrases wash over your body like
I once did.
I hope you think about your past
and see why
it never could last
and realize why I have to
distance myself from you.
even though sometimes I get this urge
this urge that stronger than the
push and pull of the moon and our waves
to send you a message.
just one.
It'd read something like "I miss you. even though
I'm not supposed to miss you I do
and I can't go a day without having you
stroll through my thoughts"
but I can't.
we weren't meant to be together now, maybe never.
but I hope you read this words
and decode them like you do
music. and see that 75% of my poetry
has been about YOU. and I just can't help myself.
read my words.
listen to me.
but don't act on it.

"I am, I am, I am."
  her words rest on the page
she wrote this at peaks of hopefulness,
     when courage wrapped around her
neck instead of a rope.

but for me the words keep beating
     through me, endlessly, with my heartbeat
            but I am not hopeful,
       nor being held by courage.

           What am I?
I am ... alone
     I am ... empty
            I am ... missing him

how cliche of me to say.


I think of him,
    I can't help it.
his scent washing over me,
     drowning in his cologne,
choking me.

    "I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart,
                           I am,
                                     I am,
                                               I am."

we need time to grow
like vines grow on the sides of buildings
someday we'll slowly start to intertwine
with each other
not yet, though.

The first step to living
was cutting my hair.

I cut it so I wouldn't have anything to hide behind when I'm scared
no more waves to sink into no more lake to drown in.
I was slowly pulling myself out of the ocean of anxiety but still rocking back and forth in a boat that had a leak in it. I kept trying to cover up the hole but no matter what I did it still reached me.
The ocean was always cold, no matter the weather. It only seemed to carry sharks that circled my boat day in and day out.

I went to the beach once for a week and every time I'd try to have fun in the ocean the waves pushed me down and almost ripped my bikini off at least 5 times, I can still taste the salt in my mouth just thinking about it.
The best part about the whole trip wasn't being with the sharks, it wasn't falling down in the ocean, it was simply riding a bike through town, having the wind whisk away all my worries.
I wish I could ride that wind. Ride that wind until I land on the moon, where I could be alone but still having the most attention. I am that girl who craves love and affection but is confused as **** when it is given to me.
Maybe that's why I pushed him way; not just because he was a bad kisser. Or maybe it was because every word I said went through him like it was nothing, I ended up repeating myself time and time again only to hear the echo of my voice.
this time it's different, though. when he kisses me I kiss him back with as much force as he gave. I touch him when he touches me and boy, I cant keep my hands off him. he listens to me and his takes every word I say and puts it in his pocket, ready to bring it up later. he's the only boy that loves my hair as short as it is and knows that I hate the ocean. He is like the cave that sits near the ocean, ready to take me in and hold me in his arms for as long as I need him to. He shelters me from the ocean spray.