I wore daggers on my knuckles and hate in my hair, and my heart was dark and full of venom and teeth that gnashed on rage. But you, the walker in my dreams the burning bush in my heart, you told me once that my heart was golden and my soul could shine brighter than … Continue reading To My Best Friend, On The Day of Her Death
Sunday Brunch
My lack of words had never sounded as sweet as they did on the night my tongue was tangled inside out and up with yours, but had I known heaven could be found drowning inside your mouth, I would have met you there, months or a minute sooner, at that place on the corner of … Continue reading Sunday Brunch
Drowning In Ink
I hate that I can see you drowning in ink far too muted to ever be called blue Am I meant to rescue you? Without will or way I have found you, angry and left wanting, dressed down on cotton pages, milling in mediocrity and pulling pleasantries from the clichés that speak your name and … Continue reading Drowning In Ink
God Damn If I Haven’t Learned
In this life I have lived and I have loved too hard and too fast to ever make it to the finish line in one solid piece. I have lost my heart to fate and fools and scorched my feet inside friendly fire. I have broken my back against walls and learned that love doesn’t … Continue reading God Damn If I Haven’t Learned
Love Has Never
Love has never asked to be felt; it has never once bowed its head to kiss my palms or ask me what it would take to make room for it in my soul. Love has never spent a moment gathering my dreams or getting to know me a little bit better; it never once offered … Continue reading Love Has Never
The Hard Part of the Night
You left me to hold the hard parts of our life and the night, and I still try to mute the sound of my own heart breaking, but it breaks again and again, over and over until the shards of it climb from my chest and pull my lungs from my throat, my lungs that … Continue reading The Hard Part of the Night
I Developed A Taste For It
I would have loved nothing more than to leave you gracefully, but those matches I had hidden in my back pocket were yearning to be struck as I had been stricken with guilt and buried underneath your lies somewhere in the bottom of your soul, next to the misfortune you carried and scrawled into the … Continue reading I Developed A Taste For It
