In 5 Years’ Time

60 months. 262 weeks. 1,821 days. 43,701 hours. Has it actually been five years since I last saw you, since you passed? I can’t really begin to comprehend that, honestly. Half the time, I can convince myself it feels like just yesterday but to be candid, it feels like it’s been a decade. You missed…

*You’re

I almost wish we’d never met. You stole six months from me, only half of which filled with naive apprehension and adoration. Even then, can the feeling of unknowingness ever truly be happy? Safe? Okay? I found myself drowning in the anxiety of question marks coating my skin, even then. The remaining three months were…

The Way They Leave Tells You Everything.

I shouldn’t be laying on my bedroom floor in my now dried towel at 3 A.M. after my 4th shower of trying to wash you off of me. I shouldn’t be driving myself insane over the questions of who she was, of who she is, of what she is that I’m not, of why I…

Promises

I’ve never known a promise that wasn’t broken so don’t promise me this isn’t the end when all that’ll do is carve this day as our expiration. You see, I’ve learned enough about promises to know they almost function as a curse. I promised to always treat myself with the kindness I’d treat my own…

Scintilla

And the worst part is, it was never even fully real to begin with. Was it? It was a rendezvous between a rantipole and a flight risk and regardless of how careful you are, combinations of that sort never end well. Do they? Destined to collapse into oceans you once flew over together or burn…

Your Old Things, Take Them

I’ve got your stuff all pressed and boxed up, the dust collected atop and all. I don’t want this any of it your old t shirts or glass water bottles or our journal lined with bleeding hearts or these mixed CDs I’ve made for you all 9. I don’t want these butterflies that won’t seem…

Saudade

4 years ago today I was told you wouldn’t make it. 4 years ago today I didn’t think I would either.

I’m Freezing Over

I don’t understand how you can claim to love someone still so deeply yet feed them icy silence, ignoring their open hand.

Writer’s Decongestant

Now I know that this is not a time for us. There are too many miles separating and not enough trust to build off of. I am not asking that you ignore those circumstances, that would be far beyond reason to ask of even myself. In fact, I am not asking anything of you at…

Bonfire Heart

I was aimlessly flipping through my journals aged three years, only to see a letter I had begun to write for you a couple months ago. Buried beneath pages filled with ramblings from a freshman class, there was my handwriting from only a few months ago, graphite still fresh. “Dearest, There are no words for…

I Wrote This For You

I am writing this for you. The you who knows me through and through, despite what you may believe, anymore. The you who knows my speech patterns like the chorus to your favorite song and the inside of my hands like your own personal roadmap to our made up constellations. I am writing this in…

Do You?

I want to ask what you think of me. I want to know your candid thoughts when you hear my name. I want to know what swims through your mind when you hear a song I used to sing, windows down, blasting. I want to know if you ever think of me the same times…

I Used To Hold Those Eyes In Mine

I am terrified I will see you look at her the way you used to look at me and I will feel every bone in my body turn to dust under the pressure of my suddenly still heart.

The Paradox Of Unhealing

What do you do when a wound was never given time to heal? It’s been left untreated for months continuously poked and torn and ripped. Do you reach for closure for it to begin mending or do you bite your cheek, tighten your lungs, and walk on? Do you risk what the little stability you…

Your Last Poem

No. No, you know what? You don’t deserve to know my thoughts and the way you’ve been circling my mind. You don’t deserve to have your venomous eyes glorified and romanticized into some beautiful metaphor they are not. You don’t deserve to be painted as something pure, like you did no wrong because in the…

188 Memories And Photographs

I deleted all of our pictures yesterday.  It was like deleting memories Smiles Laughter The times you still loved me. I went through my phone and one by one deleted each of the 188 photographs of you, Of us. 188 memories. I knew I had to do it I couldn’t avoid it forever. Those photos…

I’m Still Learning

Somewhere in the fall, I lost the map to the personal universe behind my green grey eyes. My head is spinning as I try to comprehend which habits are mine and which I created to please you. The spinning changes course as I try to remember the pieces of me I deleted for you, giving me…

The Afterthought

It’s really interesting rather funny, actually how we found ourselves in the opposite position we imagined. In the beginning, you were the one chasing after me with your alternative songs and sincere words I was the one giving you, giving us another chance. We both knew I had been the one who had lost feelings in…

Stained

You always told me you were poisonous that in the end, you would end up with inky blood on your hands and dripping from your name. I never believed you. Not for a moment. You were mortified by the thought of your ink staining my delicate skin, my pages. You wanted anything but to hurt me. I…

Disintegrate

sometimes things just d   w   i  n   d   l   e d o w n to nothing. you can just feel disintegrating in your lungs in your left-side brain in your shoulders in your stomach as the acid rises in your shaking hands until it is all gone and nothing is left. nothing left but ashes and dust.

Deconstructed

You took me apart piece by piece. Separated each fragment of my body and my soul and laid me along the earth. I thought you looked at me like I was one of Neptune’s moons but I didn’t realize you were analyzing me the way a predator does prey.   You pushed aside my  poetry…

Fading Flashbacks

There are days, weeks even that I swear I am okay. All is okay until I hear a laugh that sounds vaguely like yours or see a sweater in a store that you would have adored. Everything collapses in those moments. I feel my stomach drop onto the pavement or the sterilized linoleum. Each of…

Posting On Your Facebook

Sometimes I think about how you have never seen my blog. You’ve never read any of my work in the past (almost) three years or anything of which I have really felt proud. Honestly, I don’t quite remember what you did read. All I know is you always encouraged me to keep writing and writing…

Mother’s Day

It’s your day, Mom.  I remember our last Mother’s Day. I put together a beautiful little fruit plate in the shape of a flower with a caramel candy (your favorite) in the center. You laughed when you saw it when I walked in your room with the blue hand-painted-breakfast-in-bed table. Your ear to ear grin…

Moon//Stars//Sun

We used to be like the stars and the moon; constantly together, always to be found in one another’s arms. You shone delicately as you rose each evening into the inky night sky and I followed. I looked so tiny, so minuscule compared to you, but you assured me otherwise. You were there for me…

On A Bench

We had spent the afternoon in a cafe on the Rue Saint-Jacques, a spring afternoon just like any other. The monarchs were dancing delicately around us to the beat of the wind’s song. This was always our favorite place to go whenever we could. He loved seeing the sweet, elderly couples walk by, joking how…

Aftermath

It kicks you in the chest when you are so devastated and in so much pain and you pick up the phone to call the one person you can’t. It dries your throat as you realize all the “Good morning!” and “How are you? Miss you!” and “Love you!” and daily fun fact texts stop…

Rain

br /> Grieving and loss is like rain; the way it feels, pouring down onto your skin.   You aren’t prepared for this kind of storm; even if you have an umbrella or raingear. Nothing can protect you from what is to come. As you walk your way to your door, umbrella held high, the…

Why Writing?

It isn’t unusual for people to ask me what I love to do, and of course, I respond with “writing or literature”, and it is even more common for people to ask me why. And truth is, there are so many reasons why I right, that I don’t even realize them half the time. The…