to touch
each & every
part of
me.
- he could touch me across highways.
somehow,
my soul
knew
your soul
before we
ever
met.
- it was like coming home after a long, long day.
he calls me
gorgeous.
he reads
all my
favorite books
& then
asks for
more.
he knows
exactly how
to make my coffee.
(“light & sweet,
just like you,” i
always joke to him.)
he asks me
how i am doing
every single day
& he
genuinely
cares to hear
the answer.
best of all,
i know he will
still love me
when he
wakes up
tomorrow morning.
- 5 things you made me think weren’t possible.
i say to him,
“we will always
have our octobers.
- even when everything else fades.”
he
opened me up
like a book
& poured the
poetry
back into
me.
- my personal pen & paper.
a list of red things:
I. his hair.
II. our lips.
III. my nails.
IV. our breath.
V. my sheets.
- worth the wait.
flowers
grow
wherever
his
fingertips
graze
me.
- my sun & rain.
t
h
i
s
:
you & me,
a fading october afternoon,
the biting chill filling up the air,
noses turning rosy at the tips,
drinking our too-sweet coffees,
pinkies hooked together,
forgetting everything
& everyone else.
this, this,
this.
- 10/13/12
he is
even better
than books.
- fiction has nothing on you.
i am so glad
we were born
during the same
lifetime.
- i may not believe in fate, but i believe in you.
his smile makes my bones ache.
- a pain i welcome.
when i see
your light pieces
with
my dark pieces,
i begin to
understand why
they say
opposites attract.
- chiaroscuro.
i am so sorry
for all the times
the
darkling
dragon
demon
living inside
my darkest
corners
came
roaring out,
flames ready,
hell-bent
on
extinguishing
all the light
in you.
- please don’t leave.
the constellation
of stars
s c a t t e r e d
across his
back
is the
map
that guides me
home
each time
i find myself
lost.
- you are my home.
he
did not
teach me
how
to love
myself,
but he
was
the bridge
that
helped me
get
here.
- i thank the universe every day for you.
he walked
me down
the bridge
marked with
our names,
got down
on one
knee,
& opened up
my favorite
book—
the one
with the
beautiful princess
& her own
beloved book
on the cover.
inside,
i found
a tiny,
perfect,
amethyst
hope.
- ‘t will forever keep.
i
let myself
know
that my life
doesn’t
have to be over
just because
theirs are
& i went
ahead
& painted
the sun
back into
my sky.
- i am allowed to live my life.
“what are you
going to do with your
english degree?”
“i plan to
crack open
the skulls of the
masses
& plant
a colorful
garden
in every
brain.”
“i am
going to lace
together
a necklace
of words
for everyone
i meet.”
“for once
in my life
i am going
to make sure
someone finally
hears
me.”
“i don’t know.”
- & it’s okay not to know.
fiction:
the ocean
i dive
headfirst
into
when i
can
no longer
breathe
in
reality.
- a mermaid escapist II.
i would like to eat
one meal
without feeling
ashamed.
- healing is ongoing.
all of the oceans
& galaxies
did not
conspire together to
create me
just so i could
reproduce for
you.
- startling fact #1.
if i ever
have a
daughter,
the first
thing
i will
teach her
to love
will be
the word
“no”
&
i will
not
let her feel
guilty
for using
it.
- “no” is short for “fuck off.”
i am
a tigress
who has earned
her softer-than-velvet
stripes.
- an ode to my stretchmarks.
i am
a lioness
who is no longer
afraid to let the world
hear her
roar.
- an ode to me.
when i die,
do not
waste
a minute
mourning me.
i may go,
but i will
leave behind
all my
thousand & one
lives.
- a bookmad girl never dies.
i
&nbs
p; hope
you
can find it
in your
heart
to be
proud
of the
woman
i have become
in spite
of
you.
- still hoping for sugar instead of salt.
i will
take the
blood-tipped
thorns
they
stuck
in you
&
from
them
i will
teach you
how to
weave
together
the crown
you
deserve.
- you are stronger than i will ever know.
IV. you
raid your library.
read everything
you can get your
hands on
& then
some.
go on,
collect words
& polish them up
until they shine
like starlight
in your
palm.
make words
your finest weapons—
a gold-hilted sword
to cut your
enemies
d
o
w
n.
- a survival plan of sorts.
trees
have words
the wind
cannot carry,
so we must
write
on them
their stories
until there are
none left
for them
to tell.
- write the story.
write the story.
push
your hands
into the dirtiest
parts of yourself.
take the
rot & decay
& turn it into
nourishment & life.
water it
& sing to it
& show it
sunlight.
grow a beautiful garden
from your aching
& teach yourself
how to thrive from it.
write your story.
- the sign you’ve been waiting for.
fill in the blank:
a) poetry is ____________.
- anything you want it to be.
when you live
in new york
or new jersey
it is almost
a rite of passage
when someone
jumps in front
of your train.
the first thought
is always,
“i’m going to be
late for work.”
it is never,
“what a tragedy
she felt that
there was no
other way out.”
but it is.
it is a fucking
tragedy
when
the world
does not stop
for you
even when
you give it
every last
drop of your
blood.
- i never learned your name, but you mattered to me.
there is not
enough
rain water
in all
the skies
to rinse
the
innocent
blood
from
your hands.
- their lives will always matter.
a
world
where all
human beings
are taken care of
shouldn’t be called
a “revolutionary”
way of life
& yet
it is.
- burn.
if you
don’t want to
end up in
someone else’s
poem,
then maybe
you should
start
treating
people
better
for
a
change.
- an unapologetic poet.
emily—
i often
find myself
wondering
if you are still
out there
with lanterns,
looking for
yourself.
is sylvia there
with you,
guiding
the way by
the old
brag
of her
beating
heart?
does
virginia
have
a room
all her own?
& what about
harriet
& anne
& harper?
does
a woman
ever
find
her peace?
is death
our only
feather-covered
hope?
- i’ll be there with matches.
your hips
will try to burst
through your skin.
your thighs
will try to grow together
like a mermaid’s tail.
a soft garden
will try to sprout
on your legs.
(& between your legs,
on your upper lip,
on your armpits, etc.)
no, you are
not just here to be
sexy for him.
the world begins
& ends
when you say so.
- what they don’t want you to know.
food
is
not
the
enemy.
- society is.
i’m
pretty sure
you have
s t a r d u s t
running
through
those
v e i n s.
- women are some kind of magic.
you
are not
obligated
to have
children
just because
your body
has that
capability.
you
are so
so
so
much more
than the
possibility
of
children.
you give
birth
to oceans
every
single
day.
- your friendly neighborhood man-hater & child-eater.
be a
mermaid.
be a mermaid
who doesn’t settle
for making a
small splash.
be a
mermaid
who doesn’t
stop until she makes
tidal waves.
be a
mermaid
who knows to
stop before
she devastates
the world with her
tsunamis.
- don’t allow the world to take your kindness.
you
did
absolutely
nothing
to
deserve
it.
- fuck rape culture.
repeat after me:
you owe
no one
your
forgiveness.
- except maybe yourself.
the love
some girls
have for
other girls
is
so gentle
& so soft
& so fucking
beautiful,
&
these girls
deserve
to have
better stories
than the ones
where they
are murdered
because they love
with too much
of their
hearts.
- love is never a weakness.
the only thing
required
to be
a woman
is to
identify
as one.
- period, end of story.
your happiness
comes before
anyone else’s
happiness.
- the real meaning of “self-respect.”
just because
they don’t
hit you
doesn’t mean it
isn’t
abuse.
wouldn’t you
think it
a crime
to look up
at
the night sky
& tell
the stars
that they have
no sparkle?
guess what?