Poems

I Meant to Water the PlantThere’s a specific yellow that belongs to things left to their own devices—I’ve watched it spread across the leaves in slow, unstoppable slicesof evidence about the gap between my thinking and my following through,the pot on the counter accumulating its quiet indictment of the youwho passes it daily with the […]

I Remember Being Real I remember being real once, I think–before the pills flattened everythinginto a smooth, unbroken surfacewhere nothing rises and nothing stinks. There was a version of me who laughed too loud,who threw things when the rage came down,who cried at songsand felt the weather in his bonesand stayed up latejust to hear

I Left the Light On in Case She Comes Back I leave the light on every night at eight,the porch one, the one she said was too bright,the one she squinted at when she came home lateand laughed and said I was wasting light. But now the light is the only thingthat still does what

I Learned to Sit Still Because It Hurt Less That Way They told me stillness was a virtue,that calm was strength,and silence truth.But no one asked why I stopped moving,why I froze instead of speaking youth. I didn’t stop because I healed–I stopped because movement revealed.Every twitch invited questionsI couldn’t bear,every breath too deepturned into

Her HandwritingShe leaves notes around the apartment sometimes —not texts, actual notes on actual paper —and I keep finding them in unexpected places:tucked inside a book I was going to read next,on the counter under my keys in the morning,beside the coffee machine with no explanation required.Her handwriting is specific, a little rushed,the letters connected

Hollow Under my skin,there’s a storm that’s swirling wild,a stomach bloated with shadows,a perception defiled.Each reflection’s a sentence,in mirrors I’m trapped,my belly a burdenthat’s endlessly mapped. I dream of hollow,an echo of peace,where the contours of tormentfind their release.Wrapped tight in silence,craving the void,where the weight of emptinessis fully deployed. Through the fabric,my fingers trace

Headlights Haunt I see headlights stalking every shadow,lurking in my wake.Every mirror’s a gateway to that moment,a never-ending ache.The squeal of tires on wet concrete,a soundtrack to my fears,every drive a flashback,steered through a lens of tears. I dream in violent jolts,metal twisting,glass that shatters grace.Awake in sweat,the silent night can’t calm this racing pace.The

Help Me, I’m Lost I’m drifting on the edges of the night,streets whisper secretsin the cold, pale light.Faces blur past,they’re just shades of my fears,chasing the echoesthat nobody hears. Help me, I’m lost,where the shadows play,in the silence betweenwhat I do and I say.Throw me a line,or a reason to stay,caught in the driftof my

Grayscale Days Every meal’s just ashes on my tongue,the world’s on mute,every song unsung.Touch is just a memory,faded and worn,I’m a silhouette in the twilight,tattered and torn. Sex is just a motion,empty and cold,laughter’s a language from stories old.I’m wading through fog,where colors erase,trapped in the dull weightof shadow’s hold. Living in grayscale,nothing feels right.I’m

Halo High In the grip of passion,I find my church,beneath my hands,salvation perches.Each moan a hymn,each gasp a prayer,in the sanctity of sheets,I strip souls bare.Believing I’m anointedto heal through bliss,in every touch,a sanctifying kiss. The room glows,halos hover in heated air,sacred silhouettesin the dimmed affair.I see the divinein the arch of a back,in the