Poems

Too Proud To Say I’m Sorry I can see the crack in your mouth when you try to smile and it won’t quite stayHear the way your voice goes thin on my title like it’s planning to walk awayYou’re standing in the doorway with a box of your clothesshaking, waiting for one lineJust one simple […]

Twelve Minutes After 11 It’s twelve minutes after 11did you already make your wish? I stand in a kitchen that hums like a sick lung while the envelopes glare like a dirty dishI press a palm to the counter that holds the weight better than I dolisten to the water knock in the pipes like

Too Big To Bleed I walk into the room like gravity lives in my boots and everyone else is just loose change rolling wherever I don’t stepEvery eye that doesn’t land on me feels like a crimeevery laugh I’m not in feels like a threat I have to prepI talk over people mid-sentence just to

Tongue First, Feelings Later We met in a kitchen that smelled like cheap beer and overcooked pastayour laugh louder than the playlist on that dying speakerYou bumped my elbow reaching for the saltlooked up with a grin that hit like a shotmaking the bad week feel weaker, No deep talkno tragic backstoryjust fingers brushing over

Tongue Piercings And Panic Attacks You had metal in your tongue before you had words for what your chest did in crowded rooms and bright hallwaysClicking it against your teeth while you waited outside venuespretending the knot in your ribs was just front frightInk on your arms, rings in your earswhole look screaming “I don’t

Three on the Sheet Verse 1 The ceiling fan cuts through the air above the bedCity lights leak through the blinds in stripes of red. Three dents in the pillowsglasses by the sideClothes are in a pile where we let them slide. Her hand is on his backbonemine is on her hip, Touching without takingsteady

Toe Tags And Case Files Fluorescent hum in the hallwaycoffee cold on the file room shelfAnother call in the morning telling me someone finally lost to themselfI keep my badge on a lanyard like a bandage over a splitWalk into another living room where the light’s burned out of it. Kitchen table cluttered with letters

Three Apps, No Net Phone duct-taped to the dashsecond one buzzing in my coatThird one in my pocket screaming surge zones like a noteDoor drop, ride hail, task listfighting on the cracked screenThree companies chewing on my timefighting over the machine Map looks like a war room with all the little jobs lit up in

Three Months Past Twenty He turned twenty in a break room staring at a busted vending machinewondering if the stale chips counted as dinner or just something in betweenDoorDash, ride app, warehouseclass all folded into one long smearCalendar said “spring semester” but his body swore it’d been a yearPhone alarm at five a.m. inbox full

Three A.M. Glow Phone face up on the nightstand dragging my eyes back from sleep like a hook under skinOne stupid notification, then anotherthen I’m gone again, pulled right back inRoom is quiet, neighbors out coldbut my ceiling’s full of flickering shadowsEvery app lined up like shots at a bar where the bartender never stops