watching through windows.

there is a girl who lives fifteen minutes from me

she vacations on the jersey shore

she had long hair; now it’s short

she had me; now it’s no longer us

i watch her through windows 

and, i let her live because i think she’s better off without me 



it’s hard not to drown in the bittersweet chocolate and you’re mine sentiments

 she reminds me that this day is more than for men

with a care package, and I wish she was here

so we could spend it together

we could make tea and watch classic noir films

so I nibble at my chocolate and look at my polaroid of heart hands

and smile softly, because we’re galentines after all.

happy valentine’s day. 


the three I miss,

my kindred across the country. sending me letters full of memories that I tape onto my wall. her blonde hair braided back at sleepovers, and we’re under blankets talking about books. her dimpled-smile when we danced to the songs on the radio. her hug, telling me we’ll make it together. I am held together by those hugs, and wanting another at the moment.

my red-headed, straightforward friend. I need to sit and cry a little with him. tell him all the thoughts plaguing me. because, he makes it seem bearable, logical, and can always make me smile.

and finally,

my ocean-eyed love. driving his jeep on backroads, listening to ben rector and the mixtapes I made him. his hand in mine, where it should be. and, it’s been two months and he’s waiting for me. he loves my poetry, tells me not to change. I miss that.

I cannot replace these three. they are stitched in the inner-workings of my heart. with music, laughs, love, hurt, distance, and I think of them constantly.

I hope they still love me, when they see me now. the girl I have become in the last two months. she’s more hardened, more scarred, more easygoing, more determined, and more herself than she ever let herself be before.

lost girls.

dedicated to the three girls who entered my life this year, and have forever changed it. 

we bundled under blankets of compliments
no need for men
addicted to coffee and tea
we talked about the sky, changing the world
books, poetry
we winged our eyeliner
we danced to our favorite indie music
painting watercolors on bedroom floors

and these are my people,
my soul
everything I aspire to be:

one is forever smiling; a gift from heaven itself
the second, punk on edges but soft and filled with whimsy
the third, confident, a radiant beam of light

and these girls, lovely, pure, shimmering
masterpieces, inspire me
I joined the lost girls
and we love our neverland philosophy.

new year.

2017, the girl is changed



fought my way through depression and anxiety

found out the underlying roots, and scared me. it’s hard to face the things that made you.

almost took my life. gritted my teeth, and prayed for spring to bring regrowth.

harassed by a boy. and, I let him…

the only thing good that came of winter was finding a friend after losing her for so long.



the flowers are blooming, and the poetry vein reopened.

somehow, the air is still murky. scars are appearing outwardly.

here comes medication.

here comes healing.

I spend hours journaling away my pain, pushing it away, fighting,

fight, fight, poisoning it with ink

wondering, will it ever end? 



a smile. a spark. a flitter. a little bit of glitter.

I hid my scars as the new skin grew over.

confident, I hadn’t felt confident in years.

traveling, catching memories, feeling the air clear.


and, at the end…a pair of ocean eyes…


fall. (what a coincidence, falling leaves, falling in love.)

he fell in love with my music taste, my smile, and the way I wrote him poetry.

I fell in love with the way he talked, how much we had in common, and how he was different.

we weren’t perfect. far from it. but, we were made for each other.

and, he was taken away from me.

then my friend and I fell apart. she and I were too stubborn, too stuck in our ways, and I wish I avoided the petty conflict.

my best friend far, far away held me together. encouraging me. feeding me love.

somehow, I kept smiling. I was determined to never sink down to where I had been.


winter II.

running away. (or trying.)

planning. counting days. wanting to make something out of myself

writing. and, collecting my poetry in a volume.

determined to make a path for myself. ablaze, and so people will see the girl so close to crumbling, rose from her ashes.

loving everyone. though they wrong me. though they hate me. I accept what happens, happens for a reason.



stick around. the girl is planning great things.

(a book is coming this way…)

college. jobs. travel.

I’ll be busy.

learning. growing. and, finding myself after wasting two years.

here we go. 








a warm memory.

Everyone asks what happened to you…where you’ve been…weren’t you best friends?

I smile. Yes, we were. My heart sinks.

We were, weren’t we? I can’t hide the past, even though it hurts sometimes.

I still drink out of coffee cup, have the prom photos hung up in my room, and the letters you wrote me for my birthday. I couldn’t get rid of them.

You are apart of me. Fall days full of painting gourds, trips to gas stations, and laughing until our stomachs hurt. And, as it grow colder, I can feel my memories and nostalgia taking the place of you.

You’re a warm memory now. The apple cider. The sweater I’m wearing to keep out the wind.






we’ll be poetry.

I get tipsy off tea samples, and you don’t mind at all.

I sang along to the song in the car, and you laughed at my dramatic reenactment.

I am raw at midnight, and we sit and talk on the couch.

I communicate with you through glances, smiles, and winks.

Someday, we’ll drive to the best place to watch the sunrise, and order cappuccinos at a drive thru.

We’ll name the stars, and you’ll paint the sun coming over us.

We’ll forever be set in poetry.





Her hands have a slight tremor. “Stop that; I am in control,” she whispers to them. They have words written in pen–smudging on the ends–all over them. People tell her the ink will poison her, and she just laughs.

Her eyes are held open by mascara and cups of coffee. No cream, no sugar, she likes the bitterness.

She hums something under her breath. A song from some distant memory. That Ben Rector song that made her smile and cry at the same time.

She’s been heartbroken, but the broken heart is fixed with a little tape and glitter glue.

Her taste is eclectic; never fit into a box. Her room is littered with pictures of old memories; movie tickets, polaroids, letters, journals, and glass figurines. Her stuffed animals lined up on a shelf, and she kisses their cheeks when their eyes droop.

Maybe, she never grew up. She got taller, wears makeup, smiles when she’s told, strives for better grades, fell for boys, and felt her friends maturing day by day.

But–she would still hug the tree in the front yard, or dance along to her favorite songs when everyone else told her to stop.

She watched the city the other day. She drove her mother around, and she realized how alone she felt now.

So many people were gone; some by choice, and some because life is full of chapters. It seemed the town’s population of kindred spirits dwindled daily.

And, tears blurred her vision as she sped along the highway.

Growing up wasn’t what she always expected it would be…maybe she never would be everything they wanted. Maybe, she would always push boundaries, and always get cut from pushing the envelope too much.

That was alright. And, maybe people would keep leaving, because of college, jobs, and responsibility. And, maybe new people would appear and they’d make unforgettable memories together as well.

So, she still hummed the Ben Rector song, and tapped her trembling fingers to the piano playing in her mind, and tried to think of a time where innocence and happiness were second nature.