star-drunk child, foolish in your fear— announce your cries to the night, feel the heat of life
morning rays peeking through the c… dancing close to you quiet stories told in the dark sleeping in movie nights
What am I without poetry, Without words, blossoming on the page? I would be but a shell of myself And you would find me
Words are just words They say But if they’re “just words,” Why do they hurt so much more When they tell the truth?
Hi Dad. I’d like you to know I’m finally Unboxing each memory Framed
I do not know All of the answers. I forget sometimes And I’m not always right. Don’t listen to me,
If I died And no one knew, I don’t know. And I am scared And everything hurts
And we were always running never to but always from and always running... And we were always hurting never for but always from
I want to hold your hand Tight in my own As we run far away To a brand new home. I want to cup your face
The clouds in the distance Sit, patient Oblivious to my need For rain They promise the rain
Wet paper arrows quivering against the bright string of the bow. The arrows
I’m sorry I never told you About why I was so nervous around… I’m sorry I never confessed Because you moved on, And I didn’t.
Something warm has curled up inside my chest. It is filled with hate, with sadness, with things I cannot express.
Whiteboards are erasable. Write down a message Swipe it away with a sleeve Scribble down another message. Swipe it away again.
damp. damp and frothy and sticky upon
