for the record, yeah.
i’m as flat as a board
and sometimes i get breast envy

when i feel super girly
my best friend has two pillows
that i love to rest my head on

i know it’s not universal with everyone,
but i love ‘em, squeeze ‘em, slap ‘em,
feel how soft they are, kiss them

maybe i love my best friend too much but
i feel like this poem is going in a direction
i would rather us to not go in

This is for you:

-the girl who is so ashamed because of her acne,
-the girl who cries in front of her mirror because she doesn’t
look like Picasso’s muse,
-the girl who forgot how to smile because of her problems,
-the girl who cries her eyes out every night because of him,
-the girl who is so terrified to attach because of her past relationship,
-the girl who is different from the others,
-the girl who wants to save every soul she meets, except hers,
-the girl whose heart, blood and soul runs wild,

-you are so much more than the sprinkles from your skin.
-you're not Picasso’s muse, but you definitely are God’s muse.
-don’t waste your life being so stressed, just enjoy the journey.
-you need to be strong.Cry your heart out, but stop,your tears are too worthy , make them rare, for the real ones.
-try to love yourself first, then someone else.
-your future is not defined by your past.
-you need to save yourself first.
-run with them, darling, and never look back.

This is for you, girls.
You, no matter what, are good enough.
You are lovable.
You are strong.
You are independent.
You are different.
You are rare.
You are you, and that is your power, learn how to use it.

Lazy sundays with the sad glow
there’s nothing to be sad about
except that it is all over
of course, my one day off vanished

outside blowing meager paychecks
emerald hillsides topped with leaves
abutting, climbing the city
plunged into histories soon gone

like the cold, gold sun gleaming off
the ribbon of the tarmacked road
we returned to from our escape
peering back through the car’s windshields

Fridays, fridays, getting there
winds with their fulminations full forced
an array of a slow crawl and taunting sun
just want to go flex

glazing the mind, to downcast to longing
stepping over cracks on morning roads
past neighbor’s verandahs - filled with
sensory overloads

love, how is work
i made some **** pancakes
to my spotify workout playlist
now im tired and hungry
sick of this routine

Love, switch it up!
Do some yoga in the garden
sipping lime balm tea.
You can make tinctures out of ginger to soothe away your misery.

i will wait for this to pass
because i don’t want to wake
so why can’t i dream?

Dream of reading poetry in secret gardens
Make that garden
Keep that secret
in a shell from the ocean
Place that shell
by your bedside
Wake up by your dream...

jewelry, shining on her neck
in the glow of the night
goes through my mind all day
want some, but it’s too girly
maybe it’s the status
but then again, i’m broke and spending
all my money on clothing anyways

i do this thing where i stay quiet
for too long
sometimes i feel i ruin things
like a garden
i touch that starts to wither away
or an ornate jar
shatters to irreparable pieces
like a wound
that keeps reopening and all
the doors in my
life keep closing, so i leave my feelings
on the low key side of things

but no friends and no invitations
from weaker, lesser duelists
three thousand on a mtg deck
like the true king of dueling

i watch the nerdom go down
you lost to somebody
who spent twenty dollars on his deck
and i laugh anyways like it means a thing