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 



a love poem for the one I want to call love 

Pulling out the stops I put in my heart to protect 

has been a process 

I promised myself that I wouldn’t forget the hurt that caused me 

to put them in 

in the first place 

But I wanted to 

For you

This is a love poem

But love isn’t something I know what to do with anymore

Because love?

It’s hard to define

Until I’m lying awake in bed at 1 am 

Staring at the ceiling

Thinking about you

And wishing I wasn’t

It’s a story I’m familiar with telling

Because love?

It’s not something you feel

It’s something your body does

And not in the way you might think 

No, you love something by giving 

By giving eyes

By giving words

By giving heart after heartbeat quickens

Love for you has turned into 

A soft ticking in the back of my mind

And I’m not sure where it comes from

Maybe from what they call heart

But all I know now is that 

I love you

And I don’t know how to stop

Because daydreams turn my waking brain towards the window

And heartbeat calls and gets no answer so it beats quicker 

Sweaty palms and lost appetites reflect 

And suddenly I’m looking in the mirror wishing I knew what you thought when you looked at my eyes 

Because love?

It’s not always reciprocated

And all I want 

is to know 


Fantastic Pain and Where to Find It

I arrived

unscathed, unscratched, unbroken

a blank slate

There were places that were waiting to be written on

chalkboard brain and paper heart

My newly formed fingers couldn’t hold onto the pen

so you held it for me,

writing world views and how-to’s on my blank slate

I watched you

learning how to bottle things up until my paper heart

became a novel

I hold this manuscript inside my being

a list of things that hurt

that stung

that couldn’t be said because

pain isn’t something we talk about

reactionary actions

and defense-mechanism silence

so I write about it in my

chalkboard brain and paper heart

brain forgets, easily erased

but I write in pen on my paper heart

which can be smudged, hard to read

but never fully gone

until all that I’m left with is page after page

swimming with black

I am now twenty chapters in

and I’m learning how to take my paper heart and make it breathe again

chapters that were left untouched, unedited are being read

raw, unrevised pages of my paper heart

being rewritten

This time, I hold the pen

and the pen is mine

and I am mine

No one else to write on my paper heart

or chalkboard brain

unless I give them the power to help me

erase my pain and figure out where to find it

A Mirror in the Desert

Morning fog covers Mirror

surrounding my morning reflection

Mo(u)rning hides any hint of a hue of beauty

Red Sun rises on Cheeks

and dew covers Eyelashes from a night of rain

blue lake Eyes stare blankly through the fog

and rest indignantly on mountains that don’t seem to want to move

Forests appear in Brain and any desert left in Mind Space erupts in sandstorm

yet silence covers the ever illuminating sky

Sometimes clouds become violent, but today

they stay quiet

it’s just that Mirror refuses to reflect but projects instead

because Truth is still sleeping

but Lies never sleep, not even after sunset

so when Red Sun rises on cheeks

and dew sticks to Eyelashes from a night of rain

Lies stir in the forest of Brain, hanging from tree limbs

and slithering through the sand of the desert of Mind Space

until Pretty is a mirage in the distance

misty, mirage melting into mo(u)rning

because Memory wind blows through dessert, forest, and sunrise

and Mirror projects what Memory doesn’t blow away

as morning fog settles silently

Hide and Seek

Why is it that I need proof?It’s like I’m addicted to knowing

The truth

Faith is hard because

It makes me doubt because 

Pain feels real and 

I’m not sure how

I can 

Find myself in the dark 

I play hide and seek in the basement 

Of my heart 

Until I wander into someone else’s

Because I couldn’t find love in my own

I counted to ten

And said ready here I come

And then someone broke the rules

Hid in a place that was clearly forbidden

And whispered hey

Come on in 

It’s okay

To break the rules just this once

And so I fumbled through the parts of my heart 

That weren’t meant to be messed with in the dark

I feel 

But someone came to turn on the light

Knocked on the door and said

Don’t put up a fight

It’s me, 

I’m here now

All you have to do is stop trying to hide

Stop trying to find


I have them, they’re in the palm of my hand

Hide and seek only will 

Kill what I’m trying to show you without any games
And I put my hand in front of my eyes

The light hurts, you see, because it’s in the dark that we have lived 

For too long

But you sing me a song

Of redemption



And righteousness 

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from hiding in the dark it’s this:

I can’t find what I’m looking for on my own
So I respond to your call

“Okay, Father, I’m here, and ready to stop, but it’s going to take you and your strength because I’m not prepared to do it on my own.” 

And you say, “okay, come to my throne.”