I take pictures of everything.
It's like a feeling that takes over me.
I've watched my friends snicker at me,
I've watched their questioning gaze.
I'd like to think it derives from a sense of appreciation for the world.
But maybe it's more from struggling to let go.
I cannot let go of people, or moments,
or anything really.
Something as simple as a picture can take me right back.

healing never stops, we just find new ways to do it.
life never 'gets easy', we learn to cope.
you learn to foster and create resilience within you.
maybe that's why I have always loved the lotus flower.
a flower that grows so beautifully from the deepest and thickest mud at the bottom of a pond.
a flower that faces many obstacles before reaching the surface and blooming to its fullest potential.
it blooms in the most unusual places and can withstand thousands of years without water;
it is self sufficient.
but you'd never know it, because all you see is the finished product.
you cannot recognize nor appreciate the strength it took to reach that point because the process is unknown by many.
we're all so scared to take that initial step to heal because we don't want to admit to ourselves it's time to make change.
start in the mud, rise to the surface, and enjoy the abundance of years you will have there.
change starts with acceptance.

I just want you to know me.
I've tried so hard to be close to you.
We will only be friends.

Why did I want to be older?
Why did I spend the easiest years of my life wishing them away?
Adulthood is only full of beginnings and goodbyes.
Memories that I grieve for.
I don't look at photos and feel nostalgic; I feel grief.
I grieve for that old version of myself, of family and lovers.
Adulthood is depressing.
The west coast taught me the pain of life,
it pushed all of my fears to the surface.
The beautiful west coast; who did I find out there?
I found myself. The real me.
The one who is in a lot of pain.
The one who always has a front on.
I ran to the coast to get away from my pain,
I only came back with more.

The feeling of being in a moment and wishing it was forever is irreplaceable.
You know how great it is, and that you'll never be there again.
I have paintings of old lovers, songs I've wrote them,
They will never know.
I was just a moment to them, one that I wish I could relive forever.

Kiss me now in this moment, I'll pray I'm more than a moment to you.
To me you were temporary shelter, a home for my heart.
I spent hours painting me and you.
A painting that sits lonely in my sketch book now.
Am I more than a moment to you?
Am I more than a blurry drunk memory?
You occupied a space in my brain, you still do.
When do I stop reliving moments hoping they'll happen again.
You've changed.
I was so hopeful to grow by your side, to be able to turn one moment into a lifetime of many.
But to you, I'll always just be a moment.

I want a love that feels like morning coffee
or Sunday drives.
my skin aches to be touched by your wandering hands.
you are 4000 km away.
when will we feel closer.

To think anything is permanent is ridiculous,
Not this moment, not a budding relationship, not even family.
Yesterday is just that, yesterday.
Love dies, people fade, and nobody in the end is ever indefinite.
Nobody except yourself.

Fill my lungs with flowers
and cover my wounds
with salt.

I would much rather make a mark
in your heart,
than in
your eyes.

I began to write poems when I learned not every thought was worth sharing.
   - when I learned that nobody really cared as much as they preached.
Putting my thoughts onto paper seemed to sooth me.

I began to write poems when I learned that not every person deserves the ideas that scatter my brain, and not every person will value them either.

I began to write poems when I found you. But the thought of expressing my feelings made me nauseous beyond belief.

So I began to write poems.

orange candy sweet as sunrise on an endless July night.
I couldn't forget the times made from lake craft and lager.
remember sitting on the beach till the sun rose?
remember mixing wine and coolers until we were sick?
what an awful feeling.
but I would give many things to relive it.