i was born second
out of a pair of twins
on march the 1st 1990
i always ask
for an extra shot in my coffee
when i was a kid
my favourite power ranger
was the pink power ranger
i felt like this was wrong
so i pretended my favourite
was the ******* ranger
i am black & blue
from all the things
i beat myself up about
i used to carry my shame
like bags under my eyes
it was so heavy
i think that's why
i always over-pack
when i'm away from home
i am almost always
wearing sweatpants when i'm alone
if these walls could talk
i'm afraid that they wouldn't have much to say
except to tell you that
i'm getting better at letting go
of my shame
i live vicariously through drew barrymore
i can't ride a bike
my sense of balance is terrible
sometimes stringing together a sentence
feels like an assault course
and i am the least athletic person
you could probably meet
i am a perpetual mixture
of sunshine & sleet
i'm scared
that if you come into my bedroom
you will read all my secrets
on my sheets
the wrinkles on my forehead
are really threads
holding an earthquake
inside my mind
one day
i will burst at the seams
climb to my highest tower
and scream
"my favourite power ranger
is the pink ******* power ranger."

my first boyfriend bought me an etch-a-sketch for christmas
with "i love you" drawn onto it
then broke up with me on new years day
the irony is not lost on me
and i still don't know
what shook him so hard
that i was erased
i was young then-
didn't know much about life
about love
hell, i still don't
i stumble my way through it all
i often trip & fall
yeah, i'm clumsy like that
but i'm saving all my "i love you"'s
and keeping them to myself
'cause honestly,
my love is the quiet kind
it's not candles & fancy table-cloths
or nicholas sparks dialogue
no, it isn't shouted from rooftops
instead,
it's whispered into pillowcases
in lonely beds
i make valentines mixtapes
that i never give out
i catch my tongue
before it runs away
with the words
i don't have the guts to say
i keep them locked up
somewhere in my ribcage
when i see you
i feel them rattling in my bones
there are claw marks on my throat
from times they've threatened
to spill out my mouth
i cry for you
like spilled milk
as white as your library smile
let me inside
i wanna learn everything
your wisdom teeth have to offer
i promise
i will be the perfect pupil
get straight A's
in the curves of your lips
anyway,
what i mean to say
is if i kiss you
would that
be
okay?

Heaven won't

be full of people
who simply


avoided hell.

squeeze you to read you,
the pores that pour out hidden punctuation
that defines and makes and creates pauses for
you to look beautiful in.

there are two velux windows somewhere
in the world that look out onto chimney pots
and rooftops and birds next to each other looking
out over a flight plan that they'll fly together.

in pub seats we'll slide into and across,
placing coats on empty chairs so not to be stolen
and you pause. And out comes a list from behind a breath and a
colon: everything you wish to achieve in a year.

Naps,
And neck kisses.
Sleepy warmth.
Your hand brushes away curls
That my hand misses.
Watching lazy movies,
Being held in your content arms
You Breathe in my hair.
You mumble,
  it smells tropical,
And much too good.
You say,
I'd keep you here forever,
If I could.

he made me stop saying those three words
that made it feel okay
he said stop saying that,
it doesn't feel
right
anymore.

after he took it
(ripped it, snatched it, shook it)
from me
he didn't let me say
Those three overused words
said by overused girls
anymore.
because it didn't feel
right

did it feel
right

squeezing my wrists so
tight

pinning me down
on one of your drunken
nights

thrashing into
me
with all your
might

not letting me
Fight.

he didn't let me say the three words
that made it feel okay
he had to take
every last trace of innocence
  away