if i could literally wear my courage it would probably be a shirt that says
“I don’t give a fuck” in bolded script letters to really hit the point home
that I couldn’t care less about anything, my person shining through too hard, too strong

in reality I tear up sometimes when I see a dead squirrel on the ground or when
kids gently tease another kid that I’ve never met and will never talk to
because theres too much death in this world and theres too much sadness in this world
and there are too many pillows with tears on them and people nodding without saying anything when someone asks them if they are okay

I dont know
I cant write love poems
the words dont come from softness or the way your mouth moves
when you sing your favorite song or how even your whole damn voice
sounds different when you talk about the things you really love and I can believe
that your voice sounds that way when you talk about me but the darkness in my head says dont assume it, hope for it.

I keep finding the line “im a sad fucking person” tucked into my hand
held tight in my heart like it matters like thats the kind of weakly built crutch
i can use when Im that person who nods without saying something when
someone else asks if im okay, especially when its the people that can see
right through me and my fragile building of my own facade
because ive never been great with the long term of “long term commitments” so i
keep myself easily changed but never 100% complete or even right
but i keep nodding because its okay im doing the best i can because im sad
about today and tomorrow and probably at least four years after that

so dont look at me like that im trying to be “chill” or whatever the fuck that
is supposed to mean
i know what kind of person i want to be
having courage that isn’t questioned
making decisions without going over every detail like it will ever matter again
but instead ill write half-finished pieces and pretend that they are done


Today I woke up a little bit more

I had a dream about a fight between you and I
A bus ride and a beach
A sink full of milk and dead ants a
Four poster bed and a sense, no,
A few of falling

I woke up heavy
Weighted down by worry the kind of burden
That hurts to carry the kind of burden
That no one can really see
Damp hair
Damp eyes
The kind of mood in which you cry
Over sandwiches and snapping turtles

I often think about long plane rides and
Running away
Dropping keys in the ocean
Of inking my skin until I’m unrecognizable
A smiling stranger to myself in the mirror
A stranger in the street
I won’t follow you if you choose to run away

I often think about being unafraid
Laughing until I cannot breathe
Floating without sinking
Dreaming without crying
The kind of mood in which you feel effervescent
Realistic expectations of myself not clashing
With the illustrations in my head
Just a room
With a four poster bed


lipstick like armor

red for the my heart this poor broken
stitched up little machine that has yet to give up on me or the
string of people that fill it
fully and sometimes inconsistently
red like the hearts of others beating for different purposes
the hearts that ive broken and the ones that have broken me
red like the blood in my veins
the veins that have yet to give up on me
pulsing through the nights when i want to run away from my own skin
red like fire flames and hate
red like a reminder to say the things that burn my stomach and
tear through what is left of my flimsy bones
red like strength when i think im falling apart and cant
pull myself up off the bathroom floor because and ending is never more permanent than
a period or an exclamation point
red like yelling like me and you
red like “fuck you” and the way it burns down into my toes

lipstick like safety

pink like spring and warmth and feeling my crumpled soul breathe
expanding into a silhouette of what i once was
like bug bites and kisses on my cheek the way
that the grass tickles your bare feet and the lazy days seem endless
pink like a good nights sleep
how even your eyelids feel lighter and your skin feels new
like a hot shower for the soul
and home and the way it feels to get home after months of weariness and know
there is no alarm tomorrow
pink like “i love you” and the way that warms me all the way to my cold toes
giving me hope that this heart is human and wont weep until the end of time
pink like my fingertips and all the damage ive done with the words theyve created
and the tongue i cant always control but the way you see me makes me feel
like all these mistakes led me to you

lipstick like beauty

purple and dark like ive killed someone and i can hide it
like my deepest secrets are nothing more than white line scars
dark like war and fighting but knowing when to surrender
like a treaty and like the start of a new spring a new generation a new hope like you and me
clashing and forgiving
purple like my freezing lips and hands in the winter but knowing the day will be over soon
like the warmth of my bedcovers and like a great dream

like loving you

[This took me three days to write]

im ripping the stitches out of my chest
it doesnt hurt its like untying and im not scared its like undressing
and its a warm shower and a comfortable sweater
im spilling but its not at all like bleeding or losing or
trying to hold onto something already lost
its like sharing and showing and being a child again
thinking the world is huge and limitless and beautiful beyond the
walls of a small imagination

its like rereading your favorite book and discovering new chapters
a new character a new ending
and it isnt at all like betrayal its like coming home

its like exhaling and emptiness
the stunning lack of fear the startling blankness
that security can bring a white light
white noise to fall asleep to a
deleted poem that comes out better the second time around

and it isnt at all like an ending
or coming across a finish line or reading the last page
its like a beginning
its like god damn, im glad youre here

I Wanted This For You

i woke up confused with anger on my lips
regret in my stomach
hate burning from somewhere i couldnt reach
when things got complicated
something screamed disaster and i begged for home

when i do reach home i try to destroy it
rip and shred until something new appears
shiny hard and cold
something precious something beautiful something unbreakable
my fragile heart sits on nails
and i dont mind
i dig holes deeper to bury what my arms are too tired to carry
i dont have much energy left but i will let the winds
carry me until i dare to walk again

ill bruise my knuckles fighting my demons
i dont ever want to be a sob story a “im sorry i was so mad
when you left last night its like
every other time i watched someone leave”
ill swallow swords
i dont want to ever be the one that got hurt a “i wont talk about it
because every other person tried to keep me a secret”

i wont break my own heart as it sits on the sharp metal
that keeps it alive and threatens to make it bleed
i wont be another mistake

Irrationality #6

endings feel like ropes
i told you we were fine i was so happy for you
for her
i drank too much wine i felt numb i felt something
i felt enough to mess it all up again
i wonder when i will ever feel more than a pothole
an uneven piece of sidewalk cement tripping up peoples toes
sometimes making people bleed in my inconvenience

i am a car accident waiting to happen

sometimes i wake up in the middle of the night
but i always fall back asleep with a different name
on my lips
it doesnt take long for me to realize that you
and i were more like razor blades than rain
i hate that i believed in you when we kissed

it took me months to find the sober courage to write this
it will take me months to stop thinking about you
with numbness and needles
because i needed you to leave and you stand on the periphery
of everything i do i hope i change your name in my phone
i hope i delete you there too i hope i will rip the bandaid off
and bleed honestly

And we’re all really liars

i told myself i was gonna be just fine
i never lie i
never lie
we read like updates on a newsfeed
short little sentences bursts of something interesting until its 4 am
and you realize nothing is new and nothing is sacred
ive been here before
these sheets feel exactly the same my heart feels broken in different places
i call this healing
i never lie i never lie
the words tumble out of me and i lose them before i understand them
scraping nails in the dirt i dont think i will ever get them back
i didnt expect to taste blood when our lips met

youre a bug bite
a constant itch an ugly mark destined to be a small
barely noticeable scar
only there because i know its there
keep yourself young keep yourself hungry
im looking for inspiration in garbage cans because
everything else somehow reminds me of you and
im so tired

i didnt find love when i found you
but i sure did try and convince myself that good things take time
like good wine and good friends
a long hard day of work and somewhere to sleep but you were
calluses and broken dreams
sharp words and flat notes im sorry i didnt tell you
that you broke me into five pieces and i called myself brand new
i want this ending to write itself instead of crumbling like fragments
i pull the splinters from my hand
a disaster that was once a reflection in the broken pieces i see myself
thank god this time i dont see you