Apr 15

a different kind of heaven

i want to hold the glassy
tears that fell from the sky
when they told me
that god was crying.

my breaths are quickening
as i run to them, the air
pushing me back into the
earth from which i sprung from.

my teeth are gritted as
i shout in frustration because
no matter what i do, the
thick clouds of loneliness
will not part.

i don’t know what to do
when i feel the cool knife
of truth dig into my
skin, drawing rich blood 
in rivers of red.

i can still hear the laughter
from above me as i fell
into the frigid water, heaving
my last breaths into the
murky, rippling pond.

i can still see him standing
above me as i sank further down
into the depths, my hand reaching
for his, and as my vision went
dark, i realized that tears don’t feel
nearly as hot underwater.

my pain doesn’t feel real as
Apr 09


your eyes in the
sunlight make me melt
like the sugarcube
on my tongue,
sweet like forgiveness.

spiderwebs are spun
around the darkest memories
in my mind, hiding
them from view like my
smile hides my tears.

my laugh is weak, but
frighteningly real as i fall
back into the cool
water, goosebumps rising
on my long legs
like a warning sign.

my hand reaches for
something, anything, but
all i can feel is the
cool night air, wisps of
flowing blond hair
catching on the branches
of our maple tree.

she's tired of writing
about sadness all the time
but what else does she know of?

he's tired of running 
away from his nighmares, but
he knows if he waits too long
the monsters will catch him.

we're all tired of trying
to be ok, but we weren't raised
to be quitters, so we carry
Apr 06

glistening sea glass hearts

cheeks slick with tears
and hurt, my hands shake
as i try to reach
for the stars you once
wanted so badly to be ours.

my smile, once sticky
with blue cotton candy 
happiness, is now empty,
littered with shards of broken
love and promises.

i exhale, my peppermint
breath glowing against the
toxic air as my 
mind goes blank.

i look up at the
man on the moon, 
and as he smiles at me,
my eyes only see you.

your face haunts me,
your memory banging on
my door every morning,
but i say nothing
and pray to god that you
don’t hear me crying.

my hands tremble as
i use string the color of your
honey blond curls to
stitch the pieces of my
heart back together, but the
glass shards dig into
my hands until i bleed.

my tears taste of blue
cotton candy and happiness,
so i cry, hoping that
Apr 02

and as i cough up my faith

i sneer down at your modesty,
i spit out your teachings
on the floor of our sacred place.

and as you force me on my
knees, splinters biting into
soft skin, i will not cry,
but instead laugh at your violent ways.

the blood on your hands,
the blood of people like me,
the blood that can never be washed

it stains you. it stains you and
your so called safe place.

lessons to be learned,
dark red spattered against
white snow.

a skirt tugged down,
a scowling face as she
tries to run.

my eyes are sore from
watching my imaginary 
monsters laugh at me
as i scream.

the taste of tea, first sweet,
then bitter, hot and thick,
clogs my throat as
i cough.

i look up to the sky,
praying, praying, praying,
but no one ever listens
to the thoughts of
a girl who cannot speak.

Mar 30

the taste of tears

the taste of honey sits
sweet on her tongue before
turning bitter.

she chews on her tongue, the metallic
taste of blood filling her
mouth until she gags.

her dry lips curl as
she looks at herself in the mirror
with disgust.

bruised and battered, her face
is a story that no one
will ever hear about.

her arms are covered in scars
of hate and hurt and tears,
staining her innocence until it
is worn out and torn apart.

she smiles, skin smeared
with the blood and tears from
a thousand generations of pain. 

her eyes have dark, heavy rings
around them, carrying her exhaustion
as she stumbles around, struggling
to stand.

her lungs are bruised and sore
from breathing too hard when she
remembers that she wants 
to be alive.

stay away from her, they say,
stay away from her thoughts and 
Mar 25


i don't let my mind wander
anymore because it always
finds it's way back to the
old times.
nowadays, i sit on my swing
everyday and listen to other
peoples sugarcoated voices tell
me how to live my life.
my eyes are no longer
pools of honey, as you described
them on sunny days, 
they're more like muddy
pits of longing.
i don't miss you much,
and yet i still find myself
staring out the window and
rubbing the cool metal
of the necklace you bought me
between my fingers.
my hair is shorter now,
with side bangs because i
thought i might change myself
a little more than i 
i already have.
my mother tells me to
sit up straight and keep
my head held up high,
and i try, i really do,
but the sweater that you wore
once weighs me down,
and i slowly fade away
into the soft fabric.
i still chew on the mint
Mar 18

i know you

i know you.
i know everything about you.
i know that you are turning 13
in august.
i know that you wish that you
could live in a castle one day,
with huge spiraling staircases.
your pupils are always dilated,
even in the sunlight.
you cut your hair a little bit
shorter each month, just
to show people that you can.
you love to read old books that
you find in locked up cupboards.
you hate wearing flannels,
they make you feel old.
you have a book filled with 
pictures of your friends, so
that you can save the memories.
you think that your dad 
doesn’t care about you because
he has never been home
for your birthday.
your mom works full time,
so you take care of your brothers
on the days that they
are home.
you cry when a tv show
ends because there won’t be
more for you to watch.
you love to run through your
Mar 16

a poem for you

chocolate skin and earthy curls,
gold flecked eyes and whispered secrets,
pastel nails and white soled shoes.

it all reminds me of you.

summer breeze and falling leaves,
frozen lashes and herbal tea,
muffled laughs and warm, strong, hugs.

it brings back so many memories.

your not-so perfect teeth, your light blue flannels,
your large hands with delicate fingers,
your crinkled-in-the-corner eyes,
folding when you smile.

i love it. i love all of it.

i wish i could go back in time
and run my fingers through your
soft hair, just one more time.

before we were lost in our fears,
wandering through the darkness,
broken pieces of the same

because, darling, don’t you know?
every good thing will come
to an end.

in the end.
Mar 10

she is free

she is free

at least, that is
what she thinks.
what she feels.

her blonde hair has 
wildflowers and weeds
braided into it as
it blows in the breeze.

her dress is long,
flowing and covered in
grass stains and mud as
she splatters through
a brook near her 
small cottage.

her feet sink into
the soft dirt as she 
stands barefoot in the
meadow, eyes closed, breathing
in the smell of summer.

her smile is wide as
she wipes flour off of
her battered apron, eyes
twinkling with happiness
as her lover laughs.

her hand is outstretched
as she reaches for the
girls hand, wading through
the pond to get to her
smiling ladylove.

her teeth are straight
as she grits them, forcing
herself to walk away from
the big yellow house,
away from the jeers of 
young boys.
Mar 03

you are forever

you are the spring
that comes after what
feels like the longest

you are the daisies
bowing down in the wind,
the smell of fresh cut
flowers carried by the
wind, the aroma staying in
your braided blond hair.

you are the water, springing
from the earth, the cool feelng
on my legs as i slipped 
into the deep pond.

you are the summer breeze,
blowing through my damp
curls as i swam through the
clear water over to you.

you are the whispers that
are carried through the tree's as
we sat in the mossy clearing, our
laughs echoing around the forest.

you are the rush i feel
when i got on my bike and
pedaled after you, trying to catch
up as you shouted ahead of me.

you are the shivers i get
when your cold fingers brushed
my neck as you gathered
my hair, braiding in wildflowers.