all i am is a fragmented sentence

half-drunk cups of coffee strewn over the countertops

half-finished storylines where characters stopped speaking mid-sentence

half-hearted apologies because i meant what i said

half-this, half-that and never quite enough

i might never call again, because i’m ashamed to call myself your friend

i might never finish that song, because every time it plays i think of you

i might never love after you, because i will never be over it

i am half the woman i could be. i am half the writer i could be. i am half of the daughter i could be. i am half of the friend i could be. i half of the lover i could be.

all because of my inability to just fini–


follow my blog for poetry and updates on my up and coming novel 

follow my tumblr, the poetess with clipped wings




I was corrupted from a young age to believe in myself

and I used to

when I awarded participation trophies

and was told I could do amazing things


fast forward to high school

participation is a pretty word for loser

for not good enough 

and the amazing things you were going to don’t seem not to matter


bloom or die

succeed or surrender

get a good score on your ACTs and SATs

and maybe you’ll make it


our generation is ‘entitled’ and ‘lazy’ the older ones sneer

when they raised us to believe we could do anything

and stole that confidence away

we didn’t make participation trophies, they were handed to us.








Dear Someone XXXVI

Dear Someone,

I want a new main character in young adult fiction.

One who doesn’t fall in love.

One who deals with bullies, and the worst bully is herself.

She tries to be everything everyone wants her to be, and crumbles more and more ever day.

You see it throughout the book. Her thought process.

She starts on top. Yet–page by page, negative connotations and anxiety, take you on the journey of her mind.

And, by the end she’s sitting in the ruins of her life.

She wonders how she got her, and she wants to blame everyone else.

But–you know.

It was her.