this was written in the dark

Believing in myself is battle I haven’t been winning lately

I look in the mirror

I see tired eyes

painful pretty painted mask

To hide the amount of times I wanted to die today
When I was in 6th grade,

I would sit in the dark for hours

Listening to sad music on my MP3 player 

trying to convince myself the sadness that welled up inside me

Was buckets dumped from people

That somehow everyone hated me

That somehow all their words were lies

Being sad was something i knew how to do

Better than happy

But I couldn’t explain it

It was a talent I did not ask for

Finding the darkness in the middle of a sunny day and putting it in a jar

The biggest mistakes I made were when I left it open,

Allowing it to vacuum every possible smile

And turn it to bittersweet

Bittersweet goes better with tears 
My depression some days

Feels cavern large

Echoing around every wall

Sleeping bats of memories awakening

Flying around until I can’t seem to see through the clouds 

Other days 

my depression feels as small as the cavern dotted on the hills from miles away

Some days it’s keep the light on until you come home

And some days it’s so heavy that it feels like a superhero would have to come save me from it plummeting to earth

I don’t expect you to understand

Why today it felt harder to breathe than others

I don’t even really understand 

I don’t expect you to know why writing poetry is the only way for me to not get sucked into the vacuum 

But it is

And I’d be worried about me too

Reading this

And maybe you should be

But just know 

It was born in the darkness

And now is being read in the light 


guns and roses

I remember you like Friday nights crying

Trying to convince myself this was worth the pain

That somehow I wasn’t worth more than the pain

I remember me unlovable

I remember me crumpled tissue girl

One toss away from rubbish chute

Remembering you hurts 

Like I just stepped on a lego then had a baby hurts

Like my metaphors start to hide hurts

Like look in the mirror and only see a ghost

I remember me skinny pretty gullible

I remember me out until 6am

I remember me guilty

I remember you saying do this for me

I remember you saying I love you

I remember you saying you’re beautiful

I remember you the next minute pretending not to see me

I remember you ignoring me

I remember me feeling like I did something wrong
You/dancing eyes

You/thief in the shadows

You/murderer of self preservation

Me/worm under a microscope

You liked to see me squirm

Your eyes glistened and the corner of your mouth turned up, sin/ister 

I remember my eyes rivers

I remember you current, thrusting them along

I remember me run away into the rain of my own tears
And you

Chasing after me 

Only to bandage the wounds that needed surgery

I’m sorry I love you(right hook)

I’m sorry I love you(grenade)

I’m sorry(gun shots)

I love you?
You always covered my gashes with bandages in the form

Of empty I love you’s

I still remember the moonlight

But also the ice
You cut me up so bad that I was unrecognizable for two years

The doctors looked at me and just stared 

Saying motorcycle accidents don’t usually turn out this bad
I’m still healing
And I’m two thousand miles away from you now

And somehow two years and some distance will make me remember things

I hope to someday remember me

But not you

Because you

Don’t deserve

To be remembered 

By me 

throw stones at my window, then at Goliath 

There are not enough metaphors In this world 

To accurately describe how it feels

To be in love with you




Looking out into the night 

Which turns out just to be a dark room 

In the middle of the day

As if being surrounded by walls of darkness will somehow bring clarity

Because if I can see in the dark

I should be able to see even more in the light, 


You are a tree, growing in the pockets of my heart

The kind that roots

And slowly grows from seed

To sapling

To weeping willow

And I am the leaves 

Which float away in a gust of wind 

Once autumn comes

I am afraid that I would leave you more weeping that willow 

And so I plant myself elsewhere 

To keep you safe,


I build nests in your branches

Until you notice that my song

Only sings for you

You are a symphony

And I am the violin

Letting you pluck the strings of my heart

Until they break 

Chords swell

Crescendo passion

Decrescendo heartbreak

Here is desert vastness

And blushing petals

Here is girl with wide eyes

And uncertain heart

Here is girl with swaying smile

And dancing ambition

Here is girl with more metaphors

To describe things she cannot feel

Than words to tell you 

I love you

So instead she hands you poetry

To see if you’ll take the time

To figure out the heart she can’t figure out herself 


Here I am

Girl with the wide eyes

And exposed heart

Girl with deep oceans for thoughts

And poetry for lungs

It’s the way I look at the moon

Wishing that nighttime would take me away

Wrap me up into its arms 

Stick me in its pocket for later 

I wish that you loved me like I love night 

I wish that you loved me like i love feeling lost

I wish that you loved me

But I wish I didn’t love you

And I wish that wishes were not just stars

Icarus Meets Moon

I am a caged human

I would say bird but I know flying 

was not made for me

Because I know I would fall right out of the sky

The wings with which I have been provided aren’t ready for flight, you see, they’ve been shot down until the holes that gape from bullets whistle through the wind as I plummet

I’m not meant for the sky, I say, 

but I’m not meant for the ground either

Every surface feels like quicksand, sinking deeper until breathing is just a memory

Somedays, I wish for death

The creature that I am, the kind that feels out of place most days

My brain plays tricks on me

Imagining a demise by drunk driver or falling from the sky

I am not the type of girl to sit and talk about the weather

I am not the type of girl to make senseless small talk just to fill the silence, 

you see, silence is comforting to me

Silence means that there are no stones being thrown, no words that feel like bullets

There is no risk in silence

Only space

Only eyes

Only hands

Only life

But sometimes in silence there is also death

After all, life comes and goes as quickly as you can blink

Somedays, I fear I will be blind

And things will come crashing down around me and all I’ll know is the screaming coming from the distance

Darkness sometimes feels comforting, but other times feels threatening

Loneliness finds it easier to clamor through the nighttime 

I’m not meant for the sky, I say, but I’m not meant for the ground either

I’m meant for the moon

The Anatomy of This Moment

I don’t like writing love poems

They make me feel


Like for some reason I’m admitting 

That this hold on me 

That you have

Is debilitating 

That when I’m looking at my books

Trying to study

My brain is just studying the ways I could see you


And when I say see you 

I mean just take a glance at your eyes

Because that would be enough of a taste

But swimming in those oceans would be even better

I feel crazy

Like walking suddenly has become a feat

These jelly knees don’t work quite right 

And at night

I’m just staring up at the ceiling replaying your smile

Because trust me

When you smiled at me I swore I would never smile again

Because how could I compete with that? 

But I smile anyway

You make me laugh

And thank goodness because the shaking of my diaphragm in response to that joke

Somehow loosened the words that are usually trapped in my throat around humans like you

And when I say human 

I mean huMAN 

Sorry that was cheesy, I cringed too

But what else can I do?

Your questions feel like answers 

And the lines around your eyes seem to be leading to one thing

Connect the dots and you’ll see that this connection could be

So good

But I know that the one way streets that lead to you mean your not taking it back to me

And so stop signs and stop lights could be the death of this moment 

But I’ll hold on to it for a little longer

Because, baby, it’s just that you’re perfection 

And my confession

I’m falling hard 

And hardly able to stand 

When I think about your hands

So please 

Don’t leave me here on the ground

I’m dying to know if we could be anything at all

Anything past this moment 

Untitled Mess

We, we are the storytellers

the ones who

find themselves caught up in the process

the ones who

just want to be known

the ones who

wonder when we will actually arrive


I get caught up in making up stories about myself

telling them to passersby on sidewalks

the “I’m good how are you”

the untrue, unfortunate truth of


attempt in mending

my heart

my mind

trying to leave behind reality by getting

caught up in the future


behind smiles and captions

hashtags and filters

caffeine addictions and makeup lines


because if you really knew my thoughts

the lies that lie behind these eyes


I made a list last night

“12 Things I Believed About Myself Today”

Number 1

I can do this

Number 2

I love people well

Number 3

I need to lose weight to be attractive

Number 4

I’ve got too much baggage,

and I am a burden to those close to me

Number 5

Because of this, certain friends don’t want

to hang out with me

Number 6

Because of baggage, my weight, and my needy personality,

boys don’t like me

after they get to know what’s under this skin

Number 7

I am overdramatic and let things get to me too easily

Number 8

I am not thought of often by others

Am I worth being thought of?

Number 9

If people knew how messed up I really am,

nobody would even talk to me

Number 10

My emotions are not valid

Number 11

I am not valid

Number 12

I will never be loved in the way that I want


Sometimes I think about the fact

that I could be a mother someday

The mother with tattoos

Sometimes I think about how my daughter might see me


The one with answers

Eternally finding things that have been misplaced

Yet inside,

feeling things misplaced and being unable to find them,

things not even my own mother could find for me

You see, the people we see as


only appear unbreakable

because they have figured out how to glue themselves back together

after being broken

once, twice… infinity


12 Things I Want to Believe About Myself Today

Number 1

I can do this

Number 2

I love people well

Number 3

My weight just shows that there is more of

me to love

Number 4

It’s not baggage, just dried flowers

tucked inside the pages of my story

Number 5

I am loved

Number 6

I am not defined by my relationship status

Number 7

I see the world through a lens that makes

things beautiful

Number 8

I am worth it

Number 9

I am broken, which has the word “okay” infused in it

Number 10

There is a God in Heaven who loves me

Number 11

I am valid

Number 12

I am fighting for my worth

Because I refuse

to be

someone who hates

her reflection

I refuse

to tell myself stories

that don’t end

in victory

because someone has already won that for me

I refuse to believe

that I have not


Because I am not half a person

Bro/ken does not define me


I am whole


Black Hole Kind of Gone

My hands are a black hole

I’ve collected so many moments inside them

that I can barely understand

how they could hold

so many memories

They feel small

as I’m going about my days

trying to move everything that is in the way

of survival,

success seems trivial, impossible

with my small hands

but somehow they always work

Maybe it’s because they’ve become accustomed

to being black holes,

swallowing everything they come in contact with


I know this about my hands, and so

as I clasp onto this moment

this living, breathing

moment of now

I try not to lose control

It’s spinning, and being sucked right into my palms,

but I fight it

I wanted to remember hearing the music,

feeling the clicks of the keyboard under my fingers,

the anxious thoughts of the return of a friend, person…whatever he is…

the feeling of my crossed ankles and the glow of the lamp above me





this moment that had been so carefully crafted,

so insignificant


Sometimes, I wish my hands would take me too

Sometimes I want to be



Whispers wind

Sometimes I get sad

at the prospect of 

not having you 

Because after all

You’re not to have

to begin with

I’m not yours, and 

You’re    not     mine

But when I look at the trees while the wind

sweeps by

rippling the lake 

chasing the things of yesterday 

and tomorrow 

It seems to shout

how free you make me feel 

and how can I be without