I loved a person once,
Who showed me my own might,
I didn't know the strength I had,
Until they came into my sight.

They held me up when I was weak,
And made me whole again,
A precious love I thought I found,
That would never meet an end.

We walked the path of love and light,
Together we felt strong,
But as time went on,
It slowly went all wrong.

The love we shared turned toxic,
Our bond no longer pure,
Our troubles weighed us down,
We could not find a cure.

Our relationship broke us both,
It took its final stand,
The pain it caused, once so unknown,
Had now gotten out of hand.

But in that love, I found my strength,
That I could overcome any plight,
I learned that growth comes from within,
And that strength keeps me upright.

So I moved on from the toxic love,
And found peace in myself,
A strength that will never leave me,
A feeling I'll always be able to delve.

let me write you
an eight words letter.

“I don’t deserve you
cause’ I deserve better.”

It's been 5 years
Every time I think about you, I still feel the same
I've been stuck
How could I let you have this kind of power over me?
It's so weird to think that you'll still come back for me
Have you changed?
Have you learned?
Have you grown?
Maybe not
I will no longer let you take more years from me
You no longer have power over me
Letting you go means taking back my power
So I'm letting you go, and I am releasing my grasp over you
It's time to choose me.

"Pleasure sleeps in the same bed as pain"
So I'm told, but to tell the truth
I don't know if that's a world
Worth living through.

We poets are bad role models.
Burn all your love poems before you fall in love again.
Don't go around taking advice from the dead.

Honey Girl,
There are already too many bruises in your soul
Maybe it's time to give up control and just drift.
The current is always kind to rose blossoms.
Besides, the world is ending,
So we might as well try to find some happiness
In this mess.

We're far too young to care about the past
And far too old to care about the future

I'll gift you my Shakespeare plays,
So you can cut them into pieces.
I'll keep my cane, though.
I'm not ready to break it yet.

The land of the living might be beautiful,
But beauty never meant much to me.

hitting save on another task as my spotify playlist sways in the background. my yawn reaches my stomach. my dark circles bring a great contrast to my greyish-bluish eyes. i'm learning french again. maybe because it's supposed to be the language of love and maybe because i want to watch Plein Soleil without subtitles.

it's june still. my ex who said she was still my friend went to a pride parade without me. it's fine, maybe i'll get to wear my colors on my sleeves next june. maybe i'll meet some queers in college. if i ever finish my housing application.

california state university northridge. blissfully away from home, but achingly not far enough. beautiful to it's core and yet i can't shake this churning anxiety in my fingers, in my brain, in my heart. i wish everything wasn't online so maybe this yellow brick road winding me to my future would feel more real.

this town is so ugly. it's not big, not small. it isn't even pretty if you genuinely enjoy the look of washed out suburbs. all the colors are dulled by the sun, and not in the soft pastel way. it's like the skies rained gallons of bleach, if it ever once rained here. this place is full of skeletons hanging on to purgatory.

but i'd suffer damnation if i said i wasn't scared out of my mind about leaving it.

mail gets delivered everyday

do you ever expect a letter from me asking you to meet me halfway?

packages getting delivered under the windowsill

accidentally spilling coffee on the water bill

I have my book of stamps and personalized stationary too

just give me a pen and tell me what address am I sending this letter to?

pictures and videos

your recorded laugh echoes

seeing these old photos of you in your youth

feels like waiting in line at a tollbooth

visiting the past comes at a price

it costs a pretty penny and tends to be unwise

these pictures and letters will never make it to your mailbox

just like when you see me you'll always move over to the other side of the sidewalk

finding these captured moments of the past

makes me want to climb in my car and drive fast

you seemed happy then and even happier now

it doesn't seem like I've brought you too down

eight years ago today you gave me ten digits to dial

I thought our six hundred and thirty six days spent together was beautiful like mosaic tile

you were the first, that I cannot change

but even if I could, there's nothing I would rearrange

you still move me in ways i cannot explain

even after all these years there are so many feelings that still remain

some bad and some good

just wondering

do you still wear the sweatshirt I got you,

the one with the hood?

I'm sure I am forgotten about

everything about me in your mind, completely wiped out

which is fine

just at least have a glimmer of when your heart was mine

mail coming on the seventh day is a nice concept

except

no matter where you are, wherever the trees sway

the mail never comes on Sunday