Aug 18


i like to make
them scared, to
see the hope in
thier eyes bubble
up like my
morning tea. but
just like my cup
they’ve been
steeped too long. 
Aug 10

49 flames.

It is sometimes that i realize how much 

I love him

Like when I am supposed to be 


But instead i am lying awake listening

To him bustle about 

The kitchen underneath 


And i catch 

A small smile 

Tugging at me 

As he hums—

albeit off key—

a tune that i once sung to him. 

Or when i am in the car and 

I can feel his voice vibrating in

The leather seats as 

We swerve down the road. 

(his hands never were steady.) 

it comes to me when i embrace him, 

inhaling the smell of coffee beans and lost sleep lingering on his cotton shirt. 

It’s when i daydream of when i used to beg to ride on his shoulders, and when i cry silently when he seems lost in his own 



Aug 10


Jul 24

Queen Of Beating Hearts

Biting my nails,
watching the time,
Finger on the trigger,
glass of wine.
Can you tell it’s mine?

Reverie lost in time, clouds in the sky,
like when your mind is mine,

Ive got my hold on you now,
Can’t escape what you found,
wave my hand and make you bow,
give it up to me,
im on a power spree.
You’re not getting out of here alive,
It’s part of my game,
You’re all fair game.
Tastes just the same.
Jul 23

the in-between

Jul 16

Red Warrior

He lays in my lap,
His red curls
A faded memory of sleep.
His eyes flicker open
And closed,
His slip-on shoes dangling from
His feet as he swings them
To a familiar tune.
My hands card through his hair; 
A silent oath of my love,
I can feel his untouched energy– even in
his early morning haze– 
Radiating off of him and
Into every direction.
A warrior,
Beautiful in his strong stance.
Jul 16


Jul 11


if secrets could be captured,
they’d roll right of your tongue,
and run down the drain;
begging to tell me what you heard. 
and maybe it’s a funny thing, 
because nothing in life matters,
but id sooner die 
then let you hurt her. 

Jul 11

Pretty Girls With Pretty Lies

Jul 08


To her
I was nothing more than a 
a new muse 
to paint 
and then remove along
with the spring cleaning. 

To her
I was nothing but a breathing flaw,
her calloused hands the answer 
to fix me

My tears were the footnotes no
one ever
cared to read.