Toxic

not like fists and
bruises and whiskey
on your breath. not
darkness in eyes and
screaming.
not poison apples,
but i love you’s–
i love you too much.
i love you because i cannot
love myself.
toxic everything i own
in a pile on your floor,
toxic take all that is mine.
toxic maybe we can share
the burden, too.
toxic take, take, take
all the love
i don’t know how to give
myself.

Mary’s Blue

dark blue– like childhood, like
memories. like
sinking into a dream.
bite marks on the black
plastic instead of
on your lips.
covered in stickers
of where you’ve been.
your heart’s been torn
off your sleeve and
the hole it left in the fabric
keeps unraveling.

Happy Birthday, Daddy

i don’t have the ocean
in my eyes
or fire in my hair.
i was given
her dark traits, and
though they paint my face,
my heart is safe
because you have taught me
it is not my sacrifice
to this world.

i do not need
a phenotype to know
you are a part of me.
every time i’ve hidden
my mind from the world,
you’ve reminded me
sometimes it is okay
to scream.
every time i’ve wanted to fly,
you’ve stood behind me
and watched me go–
you believed i would soar
long before i knew i had wings.
let it be evident
through all i create, that you have
watered me well.

∞

the ebb and flow
of tides.
the sun sets
and rises.
the look of love in
your eyes.
everything changes,
everything dies.

Opening

the door’s been locked for
quite some time now.
i’ve clasped the keys between
my fingers for so long
i seem to have forgotten i had them.
it’s hard to let go
when my hand doesn’t know how
to unclench itself anymore.
it’s painful,
to let the light in.
i have not yet adjusted. i do not yet have
the nerve to
walk through the door frame,
where vague memories reside.
these days i’m mostly
nerves, mostly
apprehension.
a steady vibration, a constant
feeling of free fall
in my stomach. i want to
expose my eyes
to things beyond my wooden wall,
but what if
keeping this door open draws people
inside, and they dirty
my floors or break
my lamp or empty out
my fridge? what if
opening the door leaves me
hollow?

Once you learn to love and accept yourself unconditionally, everywhere becomes home.

i was looking for home everywhere but in myself

Water & Fire

You spat fire,
but I pretended I was made of water
so you wouldn’t know you burned me.
Slowly, you evaporated me
until I was nothing– a puddle
on the sidewalk that
you stepped in on your way to
somewhere.

Thinking of Summer

my heart is a mix
of the butterflies that have escaped
my stomach and
too much coffee, and
my mind is growing green grass
by the ocean shore where we’d
go skinny dipping
at night.
the air in my lungs is a shot
of hot summer sand, sunblock,
and newly pollinated flowers
chased by freshly mowed lawns
and sweat.
sweat that slides from my face,
down my spine, and in between my
bikini top.
sweat that slithers down your chest
and pools in your
belly button.
sweat like ocean water,
sweat like tears.
sweat that makes me
shiver.

Define:

They wrote those dictionaries, you know.
The ones that tell you
who you are – the ones
that you think define you.
Do not believe for one minute
you can be printed
in size 12 font with a semicolon
after your name.
You are the only one who can choose
your phonetics.
You are not Merriam-Webster
definitions.
You are an entire novel,
and you alone are the author.

What Breaking Sounds Like

Her voice
asks him to stay.

The gravel crunches as
his car drives away
for the last time.

Her knees hit
the bathroom floor
as she silently starts
to pray.

Fighting to wheeze
between sobs.
Gasping because she cannot exhale
all of him and still
breathe.

Struggling to believe that
one day

she’ll want to inhale again.

– What Breaking Sounds Like, Pt. 1