A delicate girl made of glass, lay glimmering and still, in a teardrop shaped room. With the beautiful foliage of her life sprouting from the roots of her fragile ribcage, blooming arou...
He held his knuckles against his s… My mother told me ever since he le… there has been a hurricane inside… She asked me why I thought love f… My mother drove me to the train st…
My breath is a living travesty, of what really breathes inside me. My veins are made of fraudulence, they are a paradox of the blood that runs rampantly through them. My skin is weak bu...
Your figure against mine, white no… create friction, as our bodies create silence. Beauty.
Tongue tied lava sky. Teeth scraping against heavy mouth… Clouds wrapped around waists, waists wrapped around hands, waists curved,
It used to be butterflies, beating their wings against your bones, making a home inside the homeless. It used to be whiskey, bottles of it swimming through the bloodstreams of girls w...
Because my father never told me, that my jupiter hands were glisten… Planets spinning all around me, All inside me; I let my fingers be cut away with…
I am trying to rip open the sky that sleeps in all of their mouths. The quiet. The storms. Their hurricane arms growing awkward around me. Growing absent around me. No longer around me....
It is now the 5th of October, the leaves are all falling and changing color. I built the last autumn out of words and memories of you, that I haven’t quite figured out how to release f...
I pulled out the monsters from ben… When you asked me to tell you what was on my mind, I… I asked you, what it felt like
4 days deep in January’s throat and I already feel my veins holding brick walls, My breath has become even shallower than the last time I remember the days when my bones still held o...
I was sixteen when I fell to the bottom of the e… It’s soul ripping through my child… swallowing my innocence whole. I was fifteen when I heard the so…
Some have said that I am a lion, My mouth holds worlds that can pie… oceans, that feel like home. Some have said that I am a Sunday…
Most people are born homesick. They leave the home their mothers… Most of us are born homesick. But then we hear our parents carve… We hear their voices fuse together…
I don’t know how to leave this place I call home. My mouth is twisted into shapes of constellations and on my tongue sits every word you ever said to me, the fire in your voice spread ...