i’m not the type of girl who kisses boys
by the train-tracks in the moonlight.
not the type who falls so hard for them,
sneaking outside her window and tumbling down her slanted roof-top.

i’m not the type to fall.

but when i look at you,
when i hear your voice,
soft, breathy, and kind i begin to wonder if we could ever make this work
-if i could love you and never leave you, if you loved me back.

i wonder, if i’ll have the courage, to ask
while drinking a pumpkin spice latte for the first time,
if you’d go to a dance with me.
would you kiss me in the moonlight?

would we be able to love each other,
yet only remember beautiful ghosts of dancers swirling around our blurry forms?
do you think i could see you in your dorm,
decorated with streamers and schools, and still be yours?

i’ll never be the type of girl who kisses you
by the train-tracks in the moonlight.
but i would fall hard enough,
if only you feel with me.

take my hand and jump off this cliff and into an endless sea.

A soft hat makes it considerably easier
to avoid the inevitable purple headache
it's always too warm in the winter here
everyone wears their coat and sweater
but the heat stays on for courtesy

don't let the voice wake you
as often as it wakes everyone
you know it's coming so drown it out
with something sweet in headphones
like Tom Petty or the Nutcracker Suite

sometimes peacefulness surprises you
on your way to Rosedale in the dark
submerged in December outerwear
falling asleep against the cool glass
of the southbound train window.

Life is passing by a lot faster than I thought.
All my memories seem so far away.
It seemed just yesterday that I was on the train to New York City.
With the phantom lights dimmed down and my guitar in my hand.
Strumming away the days like grey rain raining down cafe jazz.
But now in my cup of coffee is a blurred reflection staring back at me.
All the things that I seen and all things that I have done stored in my memories.
I'm riding in the backseat of a taxi with my face pressed against the window looking out at familiar faces.
Life is passing by a lot faster than I thought.

I see myself, over a blue pool
teetering on this slab of elevated plastic
an invisible hand covering my
insatiable mouth
something tricks me forward-


a dome over our heads, we all wake up in sleeping bags
who am I now?

young and waiting

looking out at the
train graveyard, tracks like teeth
the mouth of a shark
an underbelly roars
below me,
the cogs of a machine.


I woke up in a dream again
of my dad, young and in love
of the beach at sunset
of someone warming my hands in theirs at a bus stop,

waking up between nights
to the smell of summer and
lost time

You take an hour
to do it the way
it should be done,
and I listen in
shocked delight
to the moan
of the train,
calling me away.

I can't stand to be without you
but if you were here,
I wouldn't remember why.

1500 seconds after, I tripped over my own boots.
I fell onto the sidewalk and scraped my knee,
a dusty indigo mark.
today i might’ve made a friend;
she asked to share my notes and I gave her the date.
I forced my arm into the closing train doors
because i was taught to fight for what you need.
I let my words flow and ebb and my thoughts consume me,
follow my veins up my pallid legs through my fingertips,
and let them sink me.
because you taught me to journal.