Poems

Your Depression Does Not Scare Me You text me “I am sad again” in that flat tone that means the floor dropped out and you are already three layers downSay everything tastes like cardboardthe music hits wrongyour body feels like a rental you forgot to return to townYou apologize before the rant startscall yourself a […]

Your Anxiety Has Excellent Taste In People You walk into my apartment scanning the shelvesthe floor, the crumbsthe couch that sags like it’s had a long weekYour eyes hit the crooked picture framethe dust on the fan, the stain on the carpetwhile your voice stays light and meekYou crack a joke about my decorating style

You see it. You freeze. Smile dies, Shaky knees You see it. You freeze. Smile dies, Shaky knees.There is a path where I slash your tires and smash your gearWhere I wait in the alley with a bat and all your broken promises nearI chose a softer end, if you can even call it thatLeft

You, Me, and the Fallout We were the kind of mistake everyone warned us about in a tone that said they probably wanted to try it tooYou were already taken, I was already brokenboth of us bored to death with the safe shit we pretended to be stuck toFirst time we touchedit felt like grabbing

You Live My Life You wake up in the city I painted my maps with when my room smelled like peeling paintYou drink coffee on balconies I sketched in notebooks while my parents fought and never healedYou send pictures from trains, from airportsfrom bars that still feel like gold compared to the stain I breatheI

You Look Hot When You Tell Me No You lean on my doorframe with crossed arms and that look that says I love you but not like thatnot tonight, I just need spaceI make some dumb flirty comment, push a little too farwatch your jaw set while your eyes still stay soft on my faceYou

You Make My Stupid Heart Less Stupid When I met you my heart was like a drunk raccoon in a dumpsterknocking over everything good just to see what made the loudest soundI kept choosing people who treated me like a backup chargeronly useful when their favorite outlet was nowhere aroundI called it fate every time

You Don’t Have To Turn Your Passion Into A Side Hustle You used to draw for hours in the margins of cheap notebookscrooked lines and weird landsSing off-key in the showerwrite secret stories at two a.m.bake cupcakes that collapsed in your handsThen came the grindset prophets with their podcasts and threads and smug little grids

You Deserve Someone Who Texts Back You stare at your phone like it owes you moneyscreen lighting up for every app except the one you needDelivery updates, weather alertssome company begging you to buy socks againevery ping except the answer to that last readYour last message sits there naked, timestampedhanging like laundry in a storm

You Don’t Have To Heal Me You trace my scars with your eyes long before your hands ever ask to touchcataloging every rough patch like it is a puzzle to solveYou hear my stories, the bad nights, the burnt bridgesthe panic, the dumb choicesthe way my past still likes to evolveYou say things like “I