I twisted myself in new positions

to love you the way you needed

I crushed my feelings

To make you feel secure

I left things important to me

To give you what you wanted

I began to hate myself

to be more appealing to you

I let you control me

Everything about me was wrong to you

My feelings

We’re wrong to you

A flaw, something to be fine tuned

Instead of listening to how i feel

My feeling...

They ask me who my first love was

And I say bukowski,

I think that says a lot about me.

They say he was an awful person,

Not worth loving.

But I understand how love and rage tangle up into a sickly sweet mixture

Impossible to give up

I know what it’s like to love the attention more than the person

Romanticizing them just so you don’t feel alone.

Bukowski would’ve never fell in love with a girl...

I’m starting to think maybe I was never kind after all.

I fear I have created an image of myself to share to the world, and I have even convinced myself of this picture.

Because once people have peaked through the keyhole of the door and see inside,

They turn back in revulsion,

“You are not who I thought you were” is etched into my mind, I see it every time I close my eyes.

You are not who I thou...

I despise who I’ve become,

I locked all the pain away and let it rot into something bitter

It’s poisoned my blood and tainted my soul

I can’t bare to look into my eyes

All I see is loss

All I see is anger

Why am I here?...

The sky glows brightly behind the darkened landscape, skyscrapers like monoliths rise up in competition. They reflect back the apricot skies on their shiny exterior, creating a mirage of color. The lush hills fill out the background, vibrant hues of chlorohyll dulled by the waning light. During the day, the sky cannot hold a light to the radiance of the land; a spectrum of colors bursting vividly ...

Poets are loved

But not like a poet loves

Eyes of souls not yet born will paint stories from my poetry of a love that I never had

For I gave everyone the love I’ve always wanted

And preserved it on parchment and ink for proof that I existed

There are no writings of the pain of my absence because it is not missed

No secret pleas to the stars to bring me back

People don’t miss me, I stay too lon...

January is the month of dead, the air is frozen and leeches into your bones, it is the month of rest.

It is 3 layers just to leave, its fluffy socks, holiday leftovers, renewed motivation, this will be our year.

It is not quite birth, maybe conception. The womb is still cold and sleeping.

But the seeds are already planted, and in a few short months, she will be born again.

February is the mon...

There are many ways in which I profess my love,

Some so quiet you may not even hear them whisper, but they are there.

I cook you dinner, in an unnecessarily complicated fashion, for the labor is my love

I wake up early with you, just to make you a sandwich for lunch, I take my time.

Just the right amount of sauce, spread the pickles evenly, so you have the best bite each time.

I have Amazon shopp...

Endless and hungry, the void demands another sacrifice

It has feasted on every part of me,

Sucking the bones of every gluttonous bite

And yet the hunger has not been touched

2 sides to this coin,

On one, I am a child begging not to be consumed,

On the other, I am me, cutting myself to pieces and feeding it to the void with satisfaction

Why must I punish myself like this?

When will I ever be d...

I hid behind a podium, it gave me a good view of the girl in the room. She had long black hair, as dark as night. It seemed to both absorb light and reflect it back. Her hair curled in every direction and created a halo of frizz around her head. Her skin was olive and rich, she was enigmatic. Dark and beautiful, like night. But warm and bright, like the sun. She was beauty and chaos at once. Her e...