My lungs heave

chest aching

from lack of breath

My eyes are stinging

tears flowing

in a waterfall of sorrow and pain

You spat your words

like poison

well-aimed strikes

hitting me again

and again

and again

Until I was entirely broken

And yet I persist

I tape together my pieces

like a fractured puzzle

and continue on

And every time

I fall again

Every time

I meet another

who will tear me down...

“I love you, Alex. I love you.”

He just stares back impassively, features schooled and green eyes burning into mine with an almost judging glare. As if he doesn’t care about my confession, about me. As if telling him cost me nothing, as if my admission came with no price.

Despite his indifference, I can’t help but feel a shred of hope.

“Please, Alex, look at me. Talk to me, tell me what you w...

When I look in the mirror I see a girl who is dead.

It hurts to see her there, features warped and ever so slightly offset. The pain is sickening and sharp, but I am glad to see her anyways. Better she be trapped in the mirror than in my nightmares, although I know now that to be stuck in both is entirely possible.

It’s been 231 days since she died, and yet she will not stop following my every m...

If only a girl could have

a damn friendship

Why must every glance

at the opposite gender

be a crush or a squish

Why must every story told

that even involves their name

signal to those around me

that I am infatuated

Why must every hug

or shared bench

or even mere proximity

mean that there is something

more than platonic

Why must every conversation

be a confession of love

and not just a ...

As my feet splash on the oil-soaked ground of the alleyway, I barely have time to curse my luck before the blare of engines screams in my ears.

Wind lashes at me like a whip, and I’m stumbling back not just from the breeze but from surprise. Just ahead is a speeding hoverbus, blazing down the road at over 40 clicks above the speed limit and, apparently, uncaring of the fact that it almost hit me....

I feel many things

when it comes to romance,

though I haven’t felt it myself

Awe, in the idea of it all—

the shared whispers,

the intimacy and trust,

the emotion that’s conveyed

in a single glance

Disgust, the loathing that arises

at the thought of me in another’s arms,

of the shared whispers,

of the joined hands and lips

Desire, at the same time—

the want, the need

to be loved, ...

It’s the middle of November and I’m trudging through three feet of snow because, much to my dismay, bodies don’t bury themselves.

The wind is freezing cold and relentless, whipping lines of red into my cheeks, the frozen ground crunching with every step. I readjust my grip on the shovel, swallowing back tears as I once again try (and fail) to drive it into the dirt. The weight of what I’ve done r...