it’s been a year

the summer sits uneasy in my stomach
we have never been friends
i cut my hair and look progress in the eyes
with my hands clutching the scissors
i sip chai tea and eat full meals
and draw flowers on my wrists where
scars lie dead in the snowy white flesh

it feels like a lifetime

fighting demons off in past timelines 






time doesn’t change anything.

at thirteen,
i was full of untamed anger
and i didn’t know why yet
i took my aggression out on unsuspecting
pages of my diary
boys were unattainable creatures
who gawked in the distance
i picked out movies
my mother told me not to watch

at sixteen,
i found myself dying
drowning in seas of emotions
the hands of fate
sweeping me away in an under toe
i can never escape
boys flirted and flirted back
i used language
my mother told me was unladylike

 at eighteen i find myself still in the hands of fate. 

and i clench my fists and write my poetry to control the anger. 

smoke inhalation.

have you ever seen the burning ashes of a home? once there’s a fire, the fire keeps burning, smoldering for days or weeks. the smoke sifts through the air, weaving in and out of the oxygen molecules. parents tell their children to stay away to keep them safe from smoke inhalation.

pain is somewhat like that.

in the end.

if i could be a fairy
none of you would see a wish come true
if i could be a queen
none of you would stand before me in my court
if i could be a enchantress
you would know the curses i say about you

but all of these things are of fairytales i was told
i live in my house naming my trees and ignoring
the way people talk about me
‘the crazy girl who lives down the street’
i walk barefoot
and i sometimes sit in the driveway
after dark to watch the stars for signs of life

i am the wolf in the end. forever a shadow to a world who doesn’t understand. 


cruel jokes.

i will be alright someday. she whispers that under the cloudy violet skies. her friends are dancing to the pop tracks and she’s desperately trying–she escapes to the bathroom–

finds her reflection and stares at her intently

she softly touches the glass wishing this was a dream.

reality is a cruel joke. 

stardust girl

i look at you in the bookstore and you’re reading poetry connecting us to galaxies. we’re calling it research but we’re just dissolving in a chemical wash of emotions.

yesterday. we weren’t always this close and i never took the time to find out why.

today though. we walk together towards something we’re not sure of. we’ve changed but i love who we are.

and the girls who crumpled in a fire–of mental illness, abusive men, afraid of who we were, and wallflower tendencies–found each other.

nothing is more powerful than us walking down to graduate together. here, with healthy relationships, loving men, unashamed of our quirks, and conquering our wallflower personalities.

that’s a chemical equation even i know could burn you if you handle it wrong.

i smile at you in the bookstore and grasp your hand. i am holding onto this moment.

my stardust girl.