sometimes,
i wonder if he could ever
help
me
the girl that slouches in her seat with
eyes glossed over, staring into the bright light
of a screen.

sometimes,
i wonder if he’s met girls like me, helped
girls like me.
if he’d ever want to help
a girl like me, again.

i want him to hold me,
my shaky fingers
intertwined
in his.
for him to whisper,
“i’m here for you, always.” &
to squeeze me tight & never let go, chin rested
on the top of my head.

-sometimes i wonder

The days seem longer
When hands remain idle
When thoughts are empty
When goals aren't present
When phones aren't ringing
When clocks are creeping
When the sun is inching


But that gives plenty of time
to run away to day dreams.

Staring to winter wind
Touching deeply and inviting me to swim
Foolish me decides to stuck and sink
To the beautiful scene of daydream
A flawless story with perfect aim
Colorless screen turning to green
Oh no, someone please help me get outta here!

Mysterious person in my dream
your appearance is quite extreme

You feel like a dark, wretched theme
its enough to make me wanna scream

there is a modest
one-story home
with white stucco walls
and a red tiled roof
waiting for me somewhere
near a floridian beach.

the yard is flat and dry.
some days, i’ll lie there
on top of a patterned quilt
in a two-piece
hand over brow
reading a thick memoir
on loan from the library
that sits on the other side
of the brush, beyond
the wooden fence.

winter will just be a memory.
every week, my toenails
will sink into the sand
wearing a different shade of pink.
i will not fold away
my sundresses and shove them
under the bed.
they will only leave
their wooden hangers
to be worn and washed.

time simply records the falling
and growing and falling of things.
one of these days,
i will be the budding lily
pushing up dirt
to greet the other side with
all of the beauty
i am ready to be.

i have fallen enough.

Trees of many colors
from burnt orange to gold.
So many words to be written,
so many stories to be told.

She drove past all these,
mind already writing poems.
Gazing at the hues
with the winds just a blowing.

She lives in a world of words
rather than in reality.
The world may be a bad place,
but she sees the beauty.

its only 6:47am
but i've been up since 2 something
i was thinking about who i am
i guess im doing well.

i went to sleep at like midnight
after late-night overeating at a Shari's on a thursday.
two hours was it, try as i might.

i was feeling a little sick of myself, honestly.
kind of sick of yourself where you just think,
"in the end, what's there in store for me?"
and come up with few answers.

it was so weird, waking up to complete darkness,
motionless for hours in pitch night, before the day starts.
alright, this wasn't anything new, but regardless,
it still made me think.

i don't quite know where i'm headed,
yes, im waiting for the sun, but what then?
can i just go back to bed?
it feels like i just spent it all on a daydream,
doing nothing, but waiting, waiting, waiting, to fall asleep,
just to dream in the dark instead.

if i dont think, or move for a bit, i can feel myself drifting,
but it feels kind of comforting,
despite deep craters beneath by my eyes, twitching,
i know i'll go back to sleep sometime.