you were the first person
i ever tried to convince myself
i did not love.
you were the first time
i denied the lava in my stomach.

you were perfect for me.
there was nothing about us
that didn’t make sense,
and yet i turned away.

for some reason,
i have such good timing
but such bad luck, and so
i always end up in the
arms of the wrong people.
i always end up
alone again.

even when i feel alone,
you are there to console me.
and i have finally realized that
if i were with you, you probably
wouldn’t have to be consoling me.
with you, i would be happy.
and that scares me.

“we accept the love we think we deserve” // a.s.m

The rain paints
the world into
watercolors on my windshield.
Four lights shine
on the horizon just above
the hill where I went on a date once.
I remember him and I
had brought a blanket
to look at the stars that night.
We wrapped ourselves in it
and he kissed me and I felt
so loved then.
So in love.
With him? With love?
I don’t know;

In love with something
In love with everything.

For the Love of Being Loved // a.s.m

This Is Me

for flamecoloredskies ❤

vowels and consonants
will never quite fit properly into
my soul: my musings, my
passions.
and as much as poems sing
truth, they will always skip
some notes– the ones we have not
learned to write down yet.
it is scary, having
things inside you you don’t know
how to set free.

so sometimes i close
my eyes
and let my hands dance to
the songs in my mind. and
when you look at the canvas,
you will see me
in the brushstrokes. i will see
a map of my mind, no longer
overlapping streets but
routes to places inside
i’d never figured out how to give
others directions to.

i am hollow until
i give myself to a canvas or a song
and let the pieces of me make sense
of themselves.
then we can look at
them and understand.

Greeting Cards, Pt. 1

I Am (Nothing Without) Poetry

I am nothing
besides a collection of poems waiting
to be experienced, waiting
to be written.
I am an urn of emotions, a vessel for verse,
an undulating piece waiting to be
completed.

You’re Where They Were All Born

If all my other loves were the twinkling city skylines
of my heart, then you,
my dear, are the capital.

If everything I’ve ever felt before
burned with the intensity of a star,
you, my love, are
a nebula.

I Don’t Miss Your Hands

The sky was so
incredibly clear tonight.
It was one of those nights where you would have whispered:
the stars look so close you can touch them.

Tonight, for the first time
I don’t miss seeing your hands reach up to the sky.

It’s hard to settle for bits and pieces of someone you used to swallow whole.

how am i supposed to be okay with small talk when you used to live inside me?

Paralyzed

I could see the words
in her eyes
long before she wrote them–
long before she read them
on that stage.

I could feel her pain in the way
her spine curled into me at night–
long before the melancholy weighed
upon her lips (her cherry smile).

I knew she was breaking long
before she shattered, but
all I could do
was watch.

Even too much of what keeps us alive can kill us.

we are 66% water, but too much of it can drown the human system.