some days I sit back
and wonder what it feels like to be small.
I dream of looking up to meet his gaze,
instead of him being the one to do so.
I crave the sensation of my head
burying into his chest,
feeling so secure.
But instead I settle for my chin resting
on his shoulder.
It pains me when they don’t look down to me,
when instead they’re meeting my eyes
or worse, looking up to me.

I don’t mind my tummy or my thighs that touch.
My round cheeks and hips don’t bother me.
It’s only my tall height that gets me down,
that makes me feel so self-conscious.
I’ve cried and cried and cried,
prayed and prayed and prayed,
that some day I’ll wake up in a new body.
A smaller body, one just four inches shorter.
So I can hear his heartbeat drum in my ear,
so I can look up to meet his gaze.
So that I can feel secure and not uncomfortable.
Maybe one day I can accept,
but for now I just want to feel small.

Hate grows very slow and it grows very thick
He was an annoyance once, he now makes me sick
Distance also grows, it grows with the hate
And sometimes the coldness it feels just like bait
Something to snag me to get a reaction
But if you look a bit longer, under closer inspection
You see that it's not, you see you don't care
I think that I'm lost in this ****** up nightmare

It's been 3 months since his passing
The loss is starting to set in
I feel lost when I think about it
I try not to but at times like these it sinks in
Nobody understands how I am  feeling
I don't want to deal with family
Not my siblings,  cousins,  aunts,  uncles not no one
I just want to be left alone to suffer in solitude
My sister keeps trying to change me
She doesn't give up and she's making me angry
I can't stay here much longer.
I still have thoughts of suicide as escape forever
Then I have thoughts of just leaving for a long period of time
Away from all of them
Just to see if I can repair this wretched heart

“professional editing” sounds so pretentious, I know
I’ve heard the jokes before, you aren’t my latest comedian
few would call me pretentious,
weird maybe, goofy probably, energetic definitely
my major is a map to my life,
everything makes more sense to me when it’s written down
“English major” is too broad of a window,
I need the tight tunnel of editing to get me to the end,
to lead me to the light.

I like the way I hate the Boston metro subway train.
It's actually called The T, I think short for train, but
I know it doesn't matter much to me anyway. I like the way that
subway train sounds: The Screech, The Dust, The
"HEY! Do not touch my ****!" The question:
"How could they possibly have put another advertisement up there?"
There's a person at the counter saying "ma'am, your ticket didn't go through" and there is a baby crying
and someone else who's rich and
probably, they're whining.
There's a person reading something and I crane my head to look
and I'm disappointed it's just another stupid John Grisham book. It's all the same:
the way I like to hate the Boston metro subway train.