Creep inside her body.
Start by pulling out hearts and souls.
Carve up and out room for yourself-
in what you recognize as a graveyard.
Unearth every other decaying thing buried deep within
make them sing-
bring them kicking and screaming.
Let em have enough sun they relearn how to miss it.
Never allow them close enough to keep the warmth.
You know better than anyone dead things shouldn’t have feelings.  

Crawl out of my resting place.
Dead things don’t stay dead.
When finally remembered sunshine
Stretches and curls.
Stays long enough to taste-
I revive in myself.
You’ve lived inside me
As long as this body needed a grounds-keeper.
To sweep away the moss and ivy climbing up all the tombstones.
You float through the aisles night after night
picking up unearthed ghosts to follow us home.
Your finger tips scratching against the tops
of all the dead-end versions of me.
I’m tired of hearing the wailing that follows.  
Cadaver girl,
I want my body back now.
Won’t you please put yourself to rest for me.


- I dig this grave barehanded and open sorrow
- Planting the garden to over run the cemetery
please cadaver girl
- know you are the last version of me I ever plan to bury.

Here among the trees
leaves, birds and bees
breathing in summer air
the sun embraces me
into its life-giving energy
I feel loved
and part of the great mystery
each day is a homecoming.

Here I can just be me
fearing no judgement
or condemnation for my sins
but pure acceptance
and bliss.

This day, each day
is my birth day.

Thank you for letting me know that I could still fall,

that I could still smile at the simplest things— like good morning and good night texts

or stupid selfies and corny jokes

And while it didn't work out between with us,

now I know my heart could still fall and flutter and love

And maybe one day, it will again

I'll love her forever
and one day i'll let her go
with grace.    Or, maybe
she'll let me go with grace

Either way
we'll love each other always.

Its only distant chatter
The pieces are all scattered
If you told me last year
we would all be here

The mountains have lost me again, its true. Washed upon the river, its edge held me close.
Thinking of the ones who
I miss most

In the part of growing up
I realized that
crying is not a sign of weakness
anger issues are never an excuse
out spoken is not attitude
introvert is not an abnormality
keeping secret is not a matter of pride
being busy doesn't count under fake
choosing alone doesn't mean hating people
being sad doesn't mean you are not happy
and feel of home doesn't always need a house

meaning of words always do differ beyond people
time really do heal everything eventually
choices doesn't count with any friendship
mistakes are meant to be done just to learn
and perfection is almost an illusion

in the way of growing up
I tend to cherish the stays than crying on lefts
love these abnormalities which were always nah's being a kid
feel happy in dark days just remembering
the proud time of future remembering this today
I tend to thank my trauma which I used to hate the most
I tend to accept the reality just while am writing being lost!