Category: posts

i cry in my bedroom. strangled by sheets that smell like smoke. i’m sorry if there’s still fire on my breath. i didn’t mean to inherit his temper. i said i’m not who i thought i would become. you said it wasn’t meant to be easy. but it should be easier by now. call a…

is the castle still haunted? does the man with the rod still stand guard? do the floorboards still croak in fear? do the walls still listen? is this the home you are sick for? is this the body you saved? i heard you tried outgrowing your skin. tried cutting your hair. but your name still…

why is the sky blue / are aliens real / how big is the universe / what is loneliness a symptom of / dogs for adoption near me / do i swallow the truth or spit it out like venom / how far can a car drive after running out of gas / how far…

i let the wrong parts of the year save me.  what i mean is i can’t remember the last time anything arrived on time, or stayed in the shape it promised. spring sunlight touches my cheek for half a breath and i’m ready to build a cathedral around the feeling. summer burns me alive all…

my nail polish is fading and you’re giving up on me. my hair is a mess and so is my mind. i stopped reading and started sleeping once the sun started to show. i pray for release with a stuffed dog on my bed. mom can you come get me things are getting bad again.…

it is 1:56am and i was going to write something profound here but instead i burst into tears looking at a picture of laura palmer. i hold on to something until i do not know what that something is. and i’m scared again. i pray so much that my knees hurt. i used to talk…

old habits don’t die hard, they sink in their teeth and never let go. old habits will find you on a slow tuesday night and they leave the porch light on so you remember which door to knock on. when you get there, old habits seem unrecognizable, but you decide to stay anyway. you’re not…

i read today in the horoscopes that winter has been rough for you. it was something about change and loss,  and letting go / letting it go / letting me go. have you let me go? i ask because i forgot to take your city off my weather app and almost called you when the…

my mother used to bake her dreams into my dinner to make up for the ones she lost in the delivery room and lately i’ve been crumbling beneath the weight of ways i could become her: who she is, who she was—who she would have been, if only i’d let her. and though she always…

i missed your call the other day. i eat my apples sliced. i am nineteen. i am healing from things i did not tell my mom. i am healing from things i did tell my mom. i am nineteen. i like to think i know a lot but there are limes left to mold in…