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My brain is absolutely vibrating
loud and unclear
why is it love that I crave
when stability is finally here

I’m hopeless if nothing else

And i Need some much work
before I could ever love someone
the way we both deserve

On the brink of addictions
and spiraling out
it’s a hand that I crave
to keep me on the ground

But don’t try to fix it
my brokenness is mine
it wraps around me at night
and everything is fine.

Please don’t kiss me
I don’t want your touch
honestly, the thing I need
Is just to know that I’m enough

When you look at me
I want to scream
what do you see in me
that I can’t seem to see

well, I know it’s a lie
because I won’t tell you the truth
I’ll hold it in tight
and let myself be used

So whats the point
really, I’m happy enough
why would I struggle
when I know that I can’t let myself fall in love

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I fell for you looking into the eye of your hurricane 

The force of your storm surrounds me 

With a promise of destruction 

But I treasure the moment of calm

That I found in all your madness

Summertime Sadness

Humidity is dripping the mascara from my lashes to my eyes. It burns almost as much as my feet do walking across the unshaded boards of the front porch.

I missed the downpour that flooded the roads in minutes, but all traces of the rain are gone now. Even the grass had dried.

We're all as tired of summer as it is of us. Please let us part ways soon.

To My Old House and My Ex

Comfort
isn't always a good thing.
It can be like laying in bed
when you need to rise.

You were a warm bath
of oils and bubbles and salts
soothing my aching body.

It won't stay warm forever

The water cooled.
I may not have noticed at first,
but the soreness slowly set in.

It was time to go.

Pearls

there are pearls in heart where others left sand.

all of the years spent desperately fighting the coarseness inside me, 

yet when you plucked me up from the murky water

all you can think about is prying me open

to finally take my lovely pearls away.

I'm open

I'm exposed

I'm vulnerable 

the strand is long enough to choke me

swear to me you'll wear them and never give them back

Cartoon Hearts

With my head rested on your chest I hear your steady pulse.
It's not like any I've heard, and for a moment I think about how it sounds almost like a caricature of a heartbeat. Something we know is meant to be a heart but isn't quite the same.

I look up to you wondering if you're aware that you have a 90's style cartoon heart and you look down at me saying, "I hope you always keep that look in your eyes when you stare at me." I don't know how I'm looking at you but I have the same hope.


People wear me down and exhaust me. You seem to exhaust me a little less.


I dread finding moments of comfort outside of solitude. I separate myself from my feeling of bodily inadequacy, losing myself in thought. In those moments I get to live blissfully unaware of how I could be perceived by others. Always when I'm with a partner, though, the moment comes when they turn to me and I can feel myself stiffen as the words pour out of their mouth, "You look beautiful, do you know that?"

It doesn't feel like a compliment. It feels like a rock in my chest. A reminder that no matter how I conquer my mind, I'll always be subject to how others view me. To them my body and brain are and always will be intertwined. I never feel comfortable and safe.

But laying next to you, lost in a conversation and laughing, you give me that same look. Internally I recoil, waiting for the blow. "I love how dorky you are" is what comes out. I can't remember the last time someone complimented me for something other than how they find me aesthetically pleasing.


I'm can't explain what this means to me, but I'm so relieved when you take my hand. Whether we're sitting across from each other at the restaurant or laying side by side in bed, fingers intertwined softly,  I know its not the same.

Cemetery Girl

Two years ago I came upon a little girl. 

The stone slanted marker was small and old, but despite this she was clearly loved. A small concrete garden fence traced around the where she was laid. It's impossible to know if the boarder was there to protect her from being walked over or just as a way to express love for a lost child, but the sight of it stands out despite being surrounded by larger and more intricate grave markers of the era.  

I remember her being near the side of one of the roads that wound through the cemetery, in the old section towards the front. Wether by carelessness of others or the sinking and changing of the earth, her little fence had become disoriented, one side fallen over completely and another on at a harsh angle. I almost walked past it but for some reason it pulled at my heart strings and I felt compelled to stop. 

I spent a moment with her, getting to know what I could about her, and debating if I should disturb her at all. Ultimately I felt that repairing her resting place would be an act of love, since her parents and siblings were long gone and their children were probably gone too. I lifted the stones and shifted to earth and grass beneath them, pressing their fitted edges back together the best that could be done. 

I vowed to myself to come back to make sure she was still okay, but with every visit to the cemetery I search and search for her but she's nowhere to be found.