Dec 02


the digital sky turns purple as it sobs

the world crashes to a halt

somewhere, someone cries out,

is this the end?

and as suddenly as it started,

everything is still

except for the constant ticking

of the surrounding universe
Nov 30


everything would change
if you could only see it
in a different light

by firelight
problems dissolve
with laughter because
the world is okay

by neon light
beauty is everywhere.
enhanced by the color and the glow,
but it feels so temporary

by fluorescent light
exhaustion thickens like
smoke, filling the air,
infecting my lungs

by sunlight
the world is warm,
thriving, as problems melt away,
leaving room to grow

by candlelight
the world seems
just out of reach
but maybe that's okay

Nov 10


you feel it first in your throat
then in the bottom of your stomach
then finally it inflates, filling your lungs

underneath it all,
there's a spark of something
that pushes you
to be a little bolder
to speak a little louder
because if you stop caring
then there will be no one left to care

someone has to carry the spark
and although tending to the fire in your soul
is exhausting
you can finally find comfort and safety
in the house you've built for yourself
Oct 03

my skin

i carry

my past in my shoulders
and my caution
in the knots in my stomach

my exhaustion lives in
the arches of my feet
and the space behind my eyes

i hold empathy in my chest,
hidden behind my lungs,
where you'll find my secrets

i carry my stress in my spine
and my anger
in the bottom of my stomach

in my hands,
my health in my fingertips and
ambition in my knuckles and
creation in my palms

i carry my own story and
it lives within my skin,
waiting to be heard,
waiting to be told

Sep 23


fall is the season of decay

today i cut my flowers
because at the first sign of death
i must preserve all other signs of life

i built a corpse out of their leaves
discovered that i couldn't bear
to leave their fallen petals behind
so i walked home
with a trail of their yellow light
falling out of my pockets
Aug 25

green silk and marigold hearts

today the sky is red,
as red as life
red like resilience
rosy and animated,
filling me with hope.

today the sky is orange,
orange like healing,
orange like recovery,
sweet like cinnamon,
with victory on the horizon.

today the sky is yellow
like shining sunlight,
the gift of warmth
from the universe,
a reminder to breathe.

today the sky is green,
like the earth and nature below me,
softly shaking in the breeze
it makes you feel whole
with the intent of grounding you.

today the sky is blue,
and bittersweet peace
dances through the air
despite it all,
we come to terms with the truth.

today the sky is purple,
magical, spiritual,
and although we are apart,
the spirit, the heartbeat,
the connection lives within our souls.

and now the sky is pale,
neutral, unknown
the future is uncertain
Jul 11

black tea (smells like home)

terroir (n.)
1. the characteristics of the environment
in which a food or wine is produced, including
regional and local climate, soil,
and topography.

2. the flavor imparted to
a food or wine by
such characteristics

but are we not the same?
are we not also products of our soil and the air we breathe,
our regions and our cultures?
are we not created by those around us, by
friends and families and
teachers and acquaintances
and everyone we've ever connected with?
are we not also seasoned by actions and experiences and
sensory details and
feelings, emotions?

aren't we all mirrors
reflecting everything we take in
back out into the world?
Jun 28


i waste my life waiting,

waiting for a response,
waiting for a message,
waiting for an invitation,
waiting for someone to reach out,

waiting for a signal,
waiting for a cue,
waiting for a sign,
waiting for permission to proceed,

waiting to decide,
waiting to act,
waiting to live

but what have i missed out on waiting
for life to come to me?
Jun 23

coffee with honey

she was surprised to find that
sometimes home can look like
a mother with eyes like
the mediterranean and a smile
soaked in honey

a feeling found in twisted
hair, as soft as moss and bitter
as black coffee, written
in tongues foreign yet familiar, in
dust that tickles your nose and in
laughter that shakes you to the core

sometimes home is a fleeting sense
of recognition, of familiarity
found in the corners of a smile or
the edges of softening eye
contact- that moment of "our
souls have known each other since
the beginning of time and
i would recognize you 
anywhere," perhaps you
truly see me

Jun 18
poem 1 comment challenge: YWP is...


YWP is a diary that will always listen,
will hear my screaming and my frustration,
my confusion and my introspection.

A mask I can hide behind
when I just need to disappear,
where nobody has to know the backstory,
who I really am,
they're willing to listen anyways.
I guess it isn't a mask-
it's the place where I can show my face

YWP is a place where nobody needs context to find meaning.
Nobody needs to know what I was thinking
or where I'm coming from
to find some form of connection,
of solidarity,
of community.