i. roses and roses, that’s all you see.  you laugh at the way the moon rises— so romantically.  letters and  sweaters, dreams and  cloudy streams.  you look like the sunrise— you look like the sea.  ii. i lost you  on a sunny day.  the clouds parted, and you flew away.  floors of daisies and handfuls … Continue reading tangerines

there’s a subconscious genius etched in the curve of your shoulder blade.

i got stung by a bee today & cursed in front of my grandpa. my finger swelled up to twice its normal size & i think my heart did too. i tossed the bee to the ground & stomped on it. i saw it twitching at its end. my heart broke.

i. you tucked your feet underneath yourself when you left. i never thought you'd be one to succumb, but faces warp over time. so instead i tried to starve your pain by avoiding it in my letters. (were they coherent? i have a habit of delving into frenzies of wild ramblings of nothingness when i'm … Continue reading a lament (of the self): Original Content

you got a sunburn on the first day of grade school. strawberry juice ran down our stick fingers, our ruby eyes blindfolded. we were endless then. you traveled to scarlet, rocky mountains the summer before middle school. velvet sails of ships went with you, leaving only rugged waves and the stems of roses behind. you … Continue reading reddening: Original Content

sometimes i grope for words and laugh at myself afterwards.  (because i’m supposed to be a writer, aren’t i?) other times, i sit on the chipping green bench and pretend to stare at the birds while i tap tap tap inside my head and live a different life.  i let words and colors drench me … Continue reading a chipping green bench: Original Content