Pain ripples off your skin
but you still walk,
still speak,
still move even
when the world wants
to stop you,

and all I want to do is hold you,
feel your heart beat,
help you know you’re alive.
Help you see the beauty
in your strength,
the love inside your pain.

And see what phenomenal could be.

You have stars in your eyes
blinding you,
breaking you,
bilking you
into believing
you don’t deserve more,

but those stars are wrong.

They don’t want to lose your spark
so they suffocate it
until you only see the darkness,
but look for the light.
It’s there,
hiding amongst the frauds,
falling through the cracks.

Dive after it.
Don’t lose your fire
amongst someone else’s ashes.




Write something.
Just get the thoughts out.

Spill them onto these blank screens
and plaster the world with
your faulty words,
your flawed ideas
that hold together each breath,
each step because without them,
you are empty.

Without them,
you are lost among forests of stories
sprouting up through dirty lines
of mishmashed text,
of broken verses
winding their way up your walls
and tearing cracks in the foundation
you crafted so carefully.

Just write something
so that it all goes back inside.

Let it out so that it’s gone
instead of trapped,
so that your voice isn’t
scarred or silent.

So that the world can
relish your aching
the way you savor
your suffering.

Just write. Something.


Salt and Cells

My tongue tingles
with the taste of you.
The memory of your salty skin
trapped in my cells
mingles with every moment
your hands touched me,

and I can’t forget
how you looked at me,
how you stared into my eyes
and didn’t look away.
Like you were trying to see me
as I was trying to see you.

For those moments,
we were,
and nothing else existed.

For those minutes,
I belonged to you
just as much as you were mine.


Fighting: A Conversation in My Head

“I want to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”


“Because I want to. Because I have to.”

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you more.”

“Not true.”

“You want to fight me?”

“Shut up.”

“Then come here.”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What do you mean?”

“You stop sometimes and just look at me.”

“I’m trying to see you. To remember the moment.”


“Plus, you’re beautiful.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Are we back to that?”

“Well, square up, then.”

“If you touch me, I won’t be able to stop until you’re inside me.”

“Then don’t stop.”


This frozen space
where I can’t move forward
but I know I can’t stay here.

Every day
for fifteen years.


I hang above my body
for the moment of escape,
the moment I’ll know
it’s time to take back over,
to get on that bus again,

and go.

Who knows?
But one day
the amber will break
and I’ll finally be free.

I’ll take control
or maybe finally,
and I’ll find my happy.

Those glimpses of cloudy memories
where the smiles were real
and the joy true.

But for now,
I’m still stuck
in this self-made shell,
this stasis,
and all I want is out.


Once and Again

I am in pieces.
Or always.

Either way,
I am only fragments
of who I was
or should be.

I’m not sure why.

Why I’m broken
so infinitely,
so vastly shattered
that I can’t see me anymore.

But…did I ever really see me?
Did I ever trust the words
falling from my own lips?

I’m not even sure of that anymore.
I’m not sure of anything.

Because I’m parsed out
among ruins of something
I’m supposed to call my life.

I am echoes in empty canyons,
reflections in disappearing puddles.

I am once and never.

I am nothing.
Or always.
I’m not really sure.



You gave me a glimpse,
a taste of your skin,
a salty and sweet keyhole of light,

and then you took it away again.

I don’t understand why I care,
why I want so to have your skin
pressed against mine,
to feel your mouth all over me.
Your fingers in my hair
and your breath hovering hotly
on my neck.

To miss someone in new ways,
to crave someone freshly
and with my entire body
makes the ache poignant,
sharp especially when I had it all back
for a half second,
for an instant.

You were mine all over again,
and you were gone all over again.


To Know

I’m sad…again.
Because my ache for you
is so fresh,
again so raw,
so open and bleeding,
so new…again.

I’m shattered by unopened messages,
unread pleadings to be
and pieces crash to the ground,
puddling in pools of unseen desire
to just…know.

To just for once really feel
what it is to crave like he craves,
to need like he needs.

I want to love like I love,
and I need
to hold your shards in my hands,
to feel the sides interlock,
to mold together
like they’ve always meant to be,
to shadow the swarms of broken thoughts

and heal,

But you forgot.
Like I forgot.

And now songs hurt my ears
because you walk inside them,
and I’m afraid of falling memories
as much as I want to wrap myself
in their light.

And I’m afraid of living without living
like I live
or breathing with you
or in some room where I can be
free and safe at the same time.



I wonder how many times you thought about me, how many times I crossed your mind before you decided to cave, to push that button allowing me back in. I wonder if it was hundreds of times, thousands of moments you caught yourself thinking about my lips or my eyes as they stared into yours hoping you’d kiss me just one more time. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m imagining a story that never existed. Maybe it was random and you didn’t dream of having me alone for hours without interruption. Maybe that was all just me hoping for one more chance to feel your skin brush against mine, one more moment where you live inside me and we are one. Or maybe we belong to each other in ways we never imagined. Maybe our dreams are supposed to be real.

Ache Isn’t a Strong Enough Word

I ache for you,
your dark eyes
and hot mouth
tracing my skin
like a map to ectasy.

I miss your dark hair
and the way you grasp my face
when you kiss me.

I miss you
like men starved
for sun
or food
or shelter.

I ache for
your fingers in my hair,
your voice slowly caressing my name
as you gasp in my ear,

and I don’t know if I’ll be able
to wait much longer,
if I’ll be able to stop myself
from touching you,
from kissing you,
from feeling all of you
against all of me.

I don’t know if
I can stop myself
from falling
even though I know
every moment is a cliff
and every word is a leap.