untitled #5

this applies to two people so it will not be put into a shrine :) written 6/13/2026

i think i'll love you in my next life,
though i don't think i could do it right in this one.
in another life i don't have the tendency to dig my nails
into every heart given to me.
i suppose i should thank you
for letting me love you, even if it was in my own way.
i suppose i should also thank you for feeling all that you did,
though you never could form the right words.
i couldn't make out the right words either.
i think a part of me still belongs to you,
i think all of me will never fall completely out of love with you.

if you could spare me one last minute,
could i ask you a question?
was i ever gentle?
was there ever a part of me that had the ability
to love you in the way you needed?
lover, i don't expect you to forgive me.
nothing about us was meant to last.
but i do hope the last thing i hear from you
isn't you cursing my name.
i beg of you, remember the good parts.

waiting room

written 11/18/2025

tired eyes to tired eyes, how much longer are we waiting?
a twisted reflection in the mirror, a cruel trick
i don't know your name but i will learn to know the anger that spills from your mouth.
i will learn to find comfort in the sound of you breathing and feeling of your tears on my sweatshirt.

we will spend these next days in a half-lit room surrounded by versions of us.
we wiill exchange dinners for stories, thoughts for a prayer.
e will teach ourselves to be human again,
find god in the promise of escape,
and adapt to the constant buzzing.
we are scared.

the ground is falling beneath our socks and your pinky brushes mine.
i don't know your name.
keep in contact.

untitled #4

written 11/5/2025

grief sits beside you in your childhood living room. it's a beating heart, seeping into the couch. the warmth that thrums next to you will lull you to sleep and you will feel the warmest you've ever felt
it will not last long.

grief takes form of a rotting orange. you will attempt to deconstruct it but it will fall to nothing but mush in your hands. the smell is putrid and you hands are covered in slime but there is a sense of accomplishment.
was it worth it?

grief is a warm hand you hold in the darkest of winters. it holds your hand gently, rubbing the pad of its thumn over your skin. it will lead you down the snowy streets and leave you outside your front door.
don't chase it.

grief will find you on a late summer night while you wait for a call. it takes form of small puffs of smoke floating around your bedroom as you try to will the world to be quiet. your cat is scratching at your door.
the call will never come.

imaginary numbers

written 9/25/2025

i am my mother's child
which is to say i am my mothers burden.
i have always been a fragile one,
known to run to my mothers arms.
she tells me it will get better
one day i'll find my people
and one day i'll be okay.
i hold this possibility of this day impossibly close to my heart.
this hypothetical day will become my god,
the promise of what could
the ghost of what couldn't.
i will count these days and call it healing
i will pick myself up from the dirt and trudge on
towards this imaginary day.

untitled #3

written 9/9/2025

my hands are tied around my mouth / i'm trying to scream / the noise disperses in the air / nothing but a soft whisper / my body falls weak / i'm trying i'm trying i'm trying / god where are you / you were supposed to help / you promised / i've begged you on my hands and kees to let me go somewhere else / somewhere more quiet / more soft / more kind / his hands are wrapped around my wrists / i am stuck i am stuck i am stuck / i can feel his breath on my neck / god where are you?

lover(?)

written 9/5/2025

we're laying on my bed in a sun beam annd i watch the smoke fall from your mouth. our bodies are close together as you run your fingertips over the scars on my leg. i want to tell you this is paradise but i worry the words may come out wrong, as they always seem to do. i wonder if when god smokes weed if he also thinks of you.

a letter to the lost

written 3/26/2025, unfinished.

i was never afraid of loving you,
i do hope you know that.
i think we were both scared,
our words caught between our lips.
now we reside to silence,
playing a game of cat and mouse;
but who will break first?
when will i get to be caught by you again?
when will i again feel the pleasure of your warmth?

my therapist told me today to think of a time
where i felt nothing but pure joy.
a time i got to be swallowed in pure bliss.
i thought about you, though i never would've admitted it.
that day in cold, windy november.
we marched down the streets with out heads held high.
you lent me your jacket that day.

you kissed me in front of those people;
those people who couldn't understand our existence.
our touch was a form of resistance.
in the moment i wasn't afraid.
i wasn't afraid of your love,
i wasn't afraid of your eyes or your lips or your skin,
i wasn't scared about the idea of us,
i wasn't afraid of you.

by the time i got home my jaw ached
from how much i was smiling that day.
i didn't know it then but i was in love with you.
i think a part of me still is.
maybe we were both cowards,
maybe we were both trying to tell each other,
maybe we were afraid.

untitled #2

written 1/3/2025

my mom says i'm doing better / my scars are healing / my teeth are no longer rotting / pills are no longer a weapon / i'm learning to be soft again / how to accept my mothers love / how to be kind to the world around me / my throat is raw from laughter and joy / instead of anger and screaming / i no longer curse your name / i have learned to speak instead of growl / i've achieved what i've been crawling towards since i learned to stretch my legs and wiggle my toes / you would be so proud.

please don't percive me i don't know if i can handle it

written 12/5/2024 (this was meant to be a song)

i made you turn off the lights
the first time i let you have me
it was a desperate attempt to keep you
from seing my body.
i managed without crying
but i'm not sure if i was really there.
now i'm asking myself was it really worth it?
was it really fair?
it didn't really hit me
until after you came
that you used me as a replacement
something to distract you from the pain
i don't know how to feel
i don't know what to say
i wish you could love me
in an unconditional way.

untitled #1

written 11/15/2023 (this is one of my first poems!)

today i cried thinking about you,
even though i promised myself i wouldn't.
i was reading a book by your favorite author
and the words swirled in my head until tears fell down my cheeks and onto the parchment.

my mom came into my room,
a concerned look twisted on her face.
why would i cry about someone like you?
someone who burned my heart with their words,
holding me so tight i exploded.

she didn't understand how your words,
sweet like honey,
burned through my ears
or how your touch,
so soft and delicate,
left bruises on my skin.

i don't think anybody could understand how you deconstructed my broken heart
and planted a seed, letting it sprout
until my heart was broken once more,
this time covered in flowers.