soft winter days,

the world is silent for us

mourning the loss

of our love.



conception: me, with my hair short and with a tattoo on my ankle. drinking tea on a summer morning, and the birds are talking with one another.

a small apartment shared with one other person, and we hung posters/art all over the walls. we bought lots of vases and filled them with wildflowers. we cook dinner and dance about the living room, because we couldn’t afford lots of furniture.

we go to see $15 concerts on lawns, and paint our nails black. we tell each other about our days, and we laugh at our boyfriends (if we have those…)

and, we’re free.



strip away this girl.

give her pink nail polish, instead of black.

let her read magazines instead of philosophies.

give her coffee with cream and two sugars; black seems too bitter.

let her bury herself between rose fragrances and blush eyeshadows.

give her hope that sweet will cut the bitterness. even though we know, bitter starts at a young age, when someone decided you weren’t too young to learn adult-things. 

trade in the clash for radio hits.

laugh, smile, laugh, smile…just get used to it.

trade in her poetry journal entries for the ridiculous journals in the stores that say, you’ve got this or boss. 

…you’ll get used to this.

give her hope this hole in her heart, six feet deeper every year, can be fixed by brainwashing herself to be happy. 




we’re all human.

I told him how far I had fallen,

held my breath for the goodbye

for him to leave

but he just said,

 I’m not mad, we’re all human, love 

and, what would I do without you?

making me feel new when I have messed up


I called her, admitting things

I had been afraid to say

sobbing, crying, ashamed

and she just said

we’re all human, I could never judge you

and, the earth stopped shaking

when she chose to love me not hate me.


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.







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.








in & out

on key singing;

your voice ringing in my head all week.

car window searching;

it’s your face I look for every time.


my favorite songs tells a story;

that I never heard until you came.

everyone tells me the rumors,

that I never heard from you.


the city lights shine,

like fallen stars.

I wonder where you are,

in the vast sky.


in and out of love;

we got lost before we found each other.

I’m tired of searching for you,

and you’re not even trying.