I saw you today.
Your shoulders filled the frame.
Your eyes looked like pools of hope.
I looked away every three seconds,
pinched myself—
Is this real?

I spoke to you yesterday.
We laughed.
Intimacy is scary.
The faceless souls on the internet
make me feel safe.

They don’t know how I look,
how my hair flies everywhere.
It’s easier, you see.
They’ll never see my thighs,
or squirm at my nose.
But you—
you will see it all.

You are the sun,
and I am the moon.
I’m scared of the eclipse.
When everyone photographs it,
I stay hidden under covers.

How can I tell you?
How can I tell you
about the dreams and demons?
You are so bright—
I’m scared I won’t help the shine.

At some point, I crossed the threshold.
I went from Kay to a character.
And when I break that character,
Everyone loses their mind.

No one likes Kay anymore.

I don’t know if it was lockdown,
Or postpartum,
Or the weight I gained along with them.
But no one sees me anymore.

If I say something off script,
I’m met with sighs and,
“That’s crazy.”
Then I’m brushed off completely.

If I’m not being witty or helpful,
I shouldn’t speak at all.

I played the part—
Who doesn’t want to be the helpful comedic relief?

But I’m tired.
There’s no understudy.
No one else auditioned.

So that’s my fault, really.
The character was excellent escape
For a long time.

I just never imagined
I’d lose myself completely

I'm walking in the rain.
My hair is wet.
My clothes are drenched.
I'm not running.

I'm walking in the rain
With no umbrella,
Pulling a suitcase
Of baggage I can’t seem to get rid of.
There’s mascara all down my face.

I'm walking in the rain.
The thunder is loud.
The lightning is blinding.
The wind tries to push me fast—
But I'm walking in the rain.

O heart, soul, core, me:
If I do exist,
I am exactly pristine in condition
Under the surface of a pond
Frozen in eternal ice.

O want, wish, will, dream:
The ice that denies life,
Sapping its oppressive strength,
Transforming its innocent weakness;
Making brittle the bold,
Making hard the soft.

O form, frame, flesh, face:
The palm of my hand
Is spread against the bottom of the ice,
Reaching up as though to grasp
All the nothing I aspire to.

one thing and then the other 6.4.25 (8:00 pm) / 20:00)
sometimes i wonder-
well
so many things
a lot really

is betrayal just a metaphor?
for what, honestly, i’m falling apart
i can barely tell what i feel like anymore
sad? happy? one thing and then the other

i’m not in control anymore
i’m a control freak, yes
i can’t stand not knowing what happens next
i’m afraid

maybe i’m spiraling down
or maybe i’m standing on regular ground?
maybe i’m falling falling falling
or maybe you’re holding me up?

maybe everything is breaking shattering broken
or it could be all fine?

maybe i’m laughing maybe i’m smiling
maybe i’m crying maybe my tears are flooding
the floor and drowning me
maybe i’m happy.

i really don’t know