Sep 19

since 2010

you’ve done so much for me. 

most of it isn’t you doing things like giving me a gift or whatever, it’s you being there when i need you

it’s the relief i felt at just seeing your face.

it’s the joy i felt after realizing you were so much more than a familiar face

it’s the laughter i laughed after being around you. 

it’s the little sketch you did of me still hanging on my wall, framed. 

it’s all the little moments that put bandaids on my little scars. sure, they’re little. but they’re still scars and they add up. and i would much rather have you constantly patching up the little spots than patching up a big spot once.
Aug 01

happy birthday

i haven’t cried this hard since that one black haired guy broke that blonde girls heart in that one teen romance movie i marginally liked. 

but this is different because i feel so stupid. 

so god damn stupid. 

for spending half my money on you. 

for hoping you would treat my heart with care. 

i feel like an idiot for wishing that my sister would come back, 

but all i got was you. 

the shell of the person i watched terrible movies with. one half of the person i felt safe with. 

all i got was someone who was so used to fooling others that they fooled themselves too. 

you’ve tricked yourself into believing everyone else has done you wrong. 

never you. 

you could never do wrong. 
Jun 19


my heart sunk 

when she told me to 

calm down 


funny enough

freaking out used 

to be our thing

over small things 

big things 


we were the good ones 

the ones untouched by the outer world. the ones with 

kind souls 

and lawful lips

but now those lips are sealed tight 

around a brown 

glass bottle 

and i am being told to 

calm down. 

everyone does it. 

i’m a city girl now. 

calm down, i am told. 

funny enough

calming her down

to be my thing

i was the less-anxious-but-still-very-anxious-one. 

i would calm her down 

over small things. 

big things 


push and pull 

used to be our thing 
Jun 06


i know i should save her,

as her life lines fray. 

but her wicked and uncertain fingers 

weave an unpleasant tale. 

it’s easy to preach from 

inside of a church,

but it is much harder to care 

out here, surrounded by threats 

and needles 

planted in the dirt 

that prod at your ankles. 

out here, it is easy to 

forget how vital she is. 

out here, led by 

a man who’s 

heart beats to a 

completely different 

melody, it is easy to brew 

a hatred for her. 

i know i have.  

but no matter how miserable i am 

when i sit silently next to her,

i know i am more miserable 

sitting alone. 
Apr 18


he was my guidance,

the flame that lit my soul.

His slightly tanned hands molded me from a

lump of cold clay.

He shaped me, a linguistic michael angelo,

he carved my mind with his mellifluous words;

each one twisting my spine, vertebrae by vertebrae until I cannot go back to the way I was.

He was my Zeus, mighty and sempiternal, He is the one who drew the map and led me

away from Lost. He is the one that made me lift

a pen and make shapes that freed my mind. He is the one that taught me how to teach.

He is the one that my soul will miss most. He awakened something

in me so real, so alive, that no matter what weapon the monster beneath my bed shoves

into my hands and whispers wickedly ‘do it. do it for real, this time’ I will refuse. I will embrace the
Mar 25

A Rose for my Rose

A Rose for my Rose

I can still remember the day I met her. I was in third grade, perched on a log among the school’s field, carefully constructing a dandelion crown from the grass around me. Each flower plucked from the earth with careful consideration of its stem length and vibrancy. My lissome fingers weaved the torn pedicels through one another. Among the soft sounds of the other children laughing and the wind shaking itself through the trees, a lamentation danced itself past my own humming and into my head. My eyes scanned the plain around me and they settled on a girl, beyond the tree line separating the field from the forest. She was leaned up against an oak, wrapping herself up as if the mid-March weather was much too cold.

My feet lit up and blinked as I trudged through the grass and the rain-kissed dirt towards her. She remained stoic as I sat down next to her small frame and asked her what was wrong.
Mar 25

How To Be Empty

If you are one of the seventy-million people who wish to be empty, then continue to read the following paragraphs, if not, I urge you to turn away, for the following is not a safe road.

    You set aside loose fitting clothes before bed, along with a row of happiness—filled capsules.You find a soft spine measuring tape and place it beside your bed. You turn up the thermostat as high as it can go and put on many layers. You make sure to stack as many blankets on you as possible, heated ones on high are best. You feel even better when you remember the hot water bottle. You are burning up but you smile because you know that with every drop of sweat you spill, calories begin to panic and run away from your stomach. Your thighs.
Mar 25

The Definition of Modern-Day Schooling

The Definition of Modern Day Schooling

Everyone is genius, but if you judge a fish on its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.’ — Albert Einstein

    It is 1905 in France and a psychologist named Alfred Binet is developing a test of intelligence. The French Ministry of Education is waiting for this evaluation to be completed, then handed out to students to determine which of them were slow learners.

The test was introduced as the ‘Binet-Simon scale’. This seemingly minor event would set off a butterfly effect that would flap its way right into a brewing storm. A century later, the youth are still feeling the wind from its wings.
Mar 18

prove me wrong

i pray that you prove me wrong. 

i hate being wrong. 

but what you have,

behind your metallic smile,

is stronger than my impulses to 

always be proven correct. 

please prove me wrong. 

i do trust you, believe me, i do,

but it’s his soul that beat you black and blue.... darling,

he gave you that bruise upon your arm, 

and you let him bandage the marks 

with a piece of scotch tape so 

please my love,  know that it is not you, but it is him that i do not trust. And if i’m standing by you, dressed in that dove colored fabric as you approach him with tears on your plush cheeks, i will smile, as you proved me wrong. I pray that you prove me wrong. 
Mar 09

Love Sucker

 A home for me is any place far
from your grasping hands and lava lips,
coercing my mind into compliance.
Telling my body to submit to your
disguised poison
and venom slipping
through my outstretched neck
and hiding in my veins until I
am too far gone to
know it still