How could you ever know

if I never let this love out?

You’re too busy trying to

cut yourself into slivers

give everyone a piece

till there’s nothing left to build your own bones.


My mind is a canyon.

I spend too much time at the bottom,

your name comes up there a lot.

I know I need to be more for you,

quieter, louder,

more precise,

more someone to save

and someone to be saved,

more willing to give you my flaws in silver wrapping.

I want to be more

but these pieces might just be a start.


I feel how full this room pretends to be without you

when you leave even for a minute

I feel how empty I can taste my regrets

and tears that haven’t fallen shouldn’t fall.


I wish everyone I loved remembered the same moments I do,

knew which things they said once are still stuck on a loop in my head.

That would tell them so much more about me than my halfhearted attempts to articulate it.


I wish I knew what you remembered,

what do you want me to say like a broken record?


You mean more to me than my favorite mismatched socks.


You shouldn’t need to chase down the one you call a friend- there are so many humans with you if you just turn around.


I know what you mean.


It’s a late Tuesday night, come on an adventure with me.


Don’t be afraid of the monsters in your mouth

or the lies living under your tongue.


We should do this more often,

but not too much

or it will lose its magic.




Everything might not be okay, but something will.


My lonely, my introvert does not mind when you’re around.


This is not enough time to spend with you.


Wear those earrings more often.


You’re beautiful.


I don’t know what I want from you

but I like to think that I do.


I do know one thing:

I want to be more.


I wish I could spell all my memories out for you,

which of your words I wrap in gold,

but that would use up

all this ink I’m saving for when I eventually tell you.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 2/20/17

Spell Check aka Words That Have Lost Their Meaning (Slam Poetry)


“Brain, spell check my thoughts.”


I’ve waited so long to do this because I’ve been busy. Busy, okay? Preoccupied with work, sleep, human interaction, writing, daydreams, reality.

I’ve waited so long to do this because I give too many excuses.

I’ve waited so long to do this because I’m afraid of what I’ll fi-


Found: 43 total errors.


That was fast.

Finished even faster than the quickest thought of you this week.

I guess that’s not hard to do

when people like to call my head a shrine to your beauty.


26 moments of overanalyzing.


Okay, that one I expected. I’m surprised there’s not more, probably. I’m more aware than I should be when you sneak up behind me. I’m more aware than I should be of our untold feelings, the ones that have never even been written. I’m more aware than I should be when our secrets are under the same table. I’m more aware than I should be when you lean forward, bracing your weight on connected fists. Now I am even more hyperaware of how often I sit in that same position. I magnify everything, everything, everything, I read the signs before I can see them.


8 ideas you shouldn’t have had.


Shouldn’t? Who’s to decide what I should and shouldn’t think? I can’t get my mind out of the gutter when you’re around, it’s true. Most of my ideas should be outlined in a mess of green and red by now. I need to get back to the sidewalks, I need to concentrate-


6 instances of thinking about harmony, or that song, or a handful of cards with the best people, or lemon juice in an open wound.


Crooked red lines run rampant around my head, underlining so many of my thoughts, spell check complaining they shouldn’t be there, my brain thinks they have lost their meaning but to my heart they still carry so much weight, so many colors. I can’t fix myself I can’t stop thinking them I won’t stop thinking them


3 flickers of not even your name,

not even overthinking,

not even your initials

or the way you hold yourself,

just you.


The unavoidable. I could sift through my head and clear the red off this page, spell checks or bloodstains, until I can’t clear any more and even then it would go like this


“Brain, spell check my thoughts.”


Found: 43 total errors.

43 flickers of



Why did I do this again? Now there’s green and red everywhere, brain.


I crumple up half these thoughts. They don’t even deserve to be folded into airplanes before I toss them out so the page is clean.


Spell check has put crooked red lines under harmony and that song and a handful of cards with the best people and lemon juice in an open wound, forgetting how those things are intertwined with you, forgetting they exist entirely.

But still I don’t want it to cross out your name.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 2/10/17

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Can Art Forget?


can art forget?

when I hold this page

in my slippery hands

does it lose the muscle memory?


when I spill into fragments

and give them a throne

do they remember to hold the scepter

or will you hear the clatter when I’m gone?


I will lose what I said years ago

unless I save it,

chocolate under my tongue,

unless breezes don’t blow away these words

and you stay right here with your head in my lap

and I keep scribbling these maybes.


maybe my bones will remember the feeling

that for a moment could make this art.

can art forget?


I want to map you on my shoulders

in pastel or neon,

I know even if I do it will fade

but if I etch you into everything I leave behind

can art remember?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 2/8/17

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Ask Me Why (day 108)

Ask me why this is real

Take your hands out of your pockets

Lift them to the morning sun

so you can soak up the

sliding blue tectonics on the horizon.


Ask me why I swear

the moon sings to me

She’s gentle, I love her

more than you’ll ever know but

she brings with her nights where

I can’t shake the loneliness off my back.


Ask me why it’s so warm in November

maybe it has something to do with

how you rip the world wide open

with a hint of a smile

I’m burned to my core in your arms

but still not longing for winter.


Ask me how one life is

too much and never enough

We all go up in mist

like smoking cannonballs or quiet steam

but only we can choose what to be.


Ask me why I’m shaking so much

I have a top-line memory

but it’s all recorded in your voice

and once your voice is gone

what will that mean for me?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 11/13/16

The interview

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Fresh Static (day 98)

There used to be

smoke and gunshots

when I heard your name

Chaos would reign

when I closed my eyes


There used to be

the bangs of cannons and

lightning and drums

Now it’s fresh static,

a picture coming loose from its frame


I know I should envy the quiet

but I want all the noise in the world

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 10/31/16

Fresh static

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Evidence (day 44)

I turn the evidence over in my hands,

make sure it doesn’t explode on me

as I try to subdue the premature panic

that comes with gaining and losing


Trace the almost pattern on the walls,

choosing logic, chiding the voice

that keeps whispering what if I’m wrong

what if losing is just another trap


To hold your glow above all the others,

like I needed and I didn’t want to know

that longing would be a haven

I couldn’t capture again if I tried


Faked footprints and a scarred half smile

the only thing left of you.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 9/13/16


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Forgettable (day 33)



That’s the only word that

pierces my chest, pricks my fingers

as I wash my face with your aftertaste




The only syllables that break my lips

as I chase your wings with regret

paint your eyes with my despair




Dawn slips unknowingly into day

and I choke once again on

almost knowing who you were




Intertwined fingers loosen,

inconstant after all- a sunrise

illuminates the cracks in everything




I can’t face you now

the shadow of who you were

fades in sundust, morning dew and haze




I shed and take on a new skin

not twilight blue, more like the gray of

early morning clouds and

my memory through your slippery hands



Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 9/3/16


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Suitcase (day 5)

Funny how I fell living from a suitcase,
compacted into inches of space
Maybe that’s why our time was so short.


We were in between countries,
in between in love and strangers
Living on clouds and shards of promises.


Funny how I fell living from a suitcase,
but the footprint you left is
too big for a souvenir, I’m afraid
I’ll have to leave it behind.


Funny how I can’t get rid of the footprint,
it’s followed me back home
These worlds aren’t supposed to clash
but tonight I almost want them to,
I want to laugh and cry about you
since I can’t forget.


Funny how I fell living from a suitcase,
but the foolish promise you made is
too big for a souvenir, I’m afraid
you’ll have to shove it up your ass.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 8/12/16

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Just One Word (day 4)

All I needed was one word
All I needed was more time
You know leaving’s not an answer
I’m no better at goodbyes


Two more minutes to pretend
you’re not running off tomorrow
Two more minutes to release
all the rocks and gems we hide


But you were the only one
planting seeds of hope
Building and breaking
a tower built on insomnia


You should have known
I can’t leave the same way
throw memories down the drain
I’m cursed to remember everything


All I needed was one word
All I needed was more time
You know leaving’s not an answer
I’m no better at goodbyes

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 8/12/16

Just one word, two more minutes

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