Dear Future Spouse

I’m going to have to wait to find you.

There’s a lot inside of me I need to sort through.

But when I’m done maybe there you’ll be

And we’ll continue on happily.

Recently, I had a dream

Where a friend had to talk to me.

I woke up and had learned about myself.

I found a way to help my own health.

Keep on waiting, Love, we’ll be there soon.

You’ll hold me tight, my heart will swoon.

Then we’ll face the world together, hand in hand,

I won’t leave, won’t change my plans.

So stand with me, we both need hope.

Stay with me, we both can cope.

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The Old You

It made me sad when you called the old you chubby.

You said it with a laugh but you looked haunted honey.

One little word and you became so mean

About the boy I had a crush on when I was seventeen.

So what if you got fit and you still have good advice?

I miss the boy who used to be genuienly nice.

Your absent-minded stares make me wish I were dead

Or at least back in the old days of you inside my head.

You don’t pay any rent and I didn’t use to mind.

I just wish you were kinder to the boy I used to find

So golden covered and when I look in the rearview

I realize that life sucks now because I still miss you.

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Flowers Upon My Breastbone

We tend to fixate on what we love about ourselves. Girls with small waists are more likely to keep their stomachs uncovered. Boys with well-groomed hair are the ones who mess with it. Women tend to show off their nails, hair, and chest with a sort of air. They adorn themselves with gold, accenting their perfections, drawing attention to the beauty they hold. Men, on the contrary, often boast their hard-earned scars. They’re veterans making medals out of a crooked nose. The more we survive the more proud we are, while those with smaller traumas ten to hide away their shameful marks. We should feel strong for having survived. If we display what we deem best to those who view hardships as something wrong with themselves, they may proudly use their healed wounds as a form of adornment. It matches their proud smile, making their whole seem brighter. Their scars make them lighter or dragged down.

Now that I’ve explained how we use our bodies to show how we love ourselves, let me explain how I adorn myself. I’d wear nothing but a dress of silk and a plethora of flowers. With fabric blessing my form and petals woven in my hair, I’d place flowers upon my breastbone for all to see. Not that I long to show people my chest, though that wouldn’t be a shame. The skin there’s soft and the bone adds some beauty, but it’s what’s beneath I’d rather show off. My heart has gone through more than my body (and my body’s a constant warzone). It’s been broken and stitched back together more times than it should be able. If people could see the scars from the tatters they’d know how much U hide. I, however, won’t wear a crown of flowers to draw attention to my battered mind. I’m a champion of afflictions, a survivor of myself. But I clothe myself with softer reminders of the way I now blossom.

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My most recent book is now out!

Anecdotes Regarding Adalaide is a collection of poems about a young woman named Adalaide as she battles with the highs and lows of life and falling in and out of love.

I could not be more excited for this release, especially since it was my first time writing a character without using any pronouns so the reader can picture Riley however they want to 💕💕

Get it here!

"love and lonliness"

from my upcoming book, Anecdotes regarding Adalaide.

What is love without loneliness?

Love itself brings us sadness.

Love in its absence makes you feel empty.

Love at its peak becomes your everything.

During a honeymoon, you may look out past the balcony

And fathom your joined future as you gaze upon the city.

All the world could hold your eyes

But it’s your lover who’s on your mind.

Even when they’re absent your thoughts find them.

They roam about your head on any given whim.

Sometimes lovers leave and saddle you with grief

Or they change and make you wish they would leave.

But all those fresh emotions spawn from love.

If you let it go it won’t come back much like Noah’s dove.

So you ache in either grief or joy.

Love can fill your soul or leave a void.

It can give you sorrow or bliss.

Truly, you wouldn’t know love without loneliness.

For love becomes sweeter after a bitter taste

But it can also vanish without a trace

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"Facade"

There is no joy in lifeless things like lifeless tulips in emergency wings.

There are places where nothing grows amidst the trials, toils, and woes.

Yet we paint it yellow so all is bright against the dimming of the light.

To some, the change is liked. It’s a counterbalance to the pale white.

But for others, it’s a facade that smiles at you and gives a prod.

It’s another sign of faux cheer that makes this normalcy seem weird.

There’s nothing real about fake colors just like how some partners are not lovers.

The uncanny valley is a hard line to toe but there's nothing lovely about even tones.

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"Maybe"

From my book "The Way I Felt" (check it out here)

Maybe I’ll amount to nothing.

Maybe one day, I’ll just die.

Maybe I’m just a waste of ink and graphite.

Maybe all I ever do is lie.

Maybe I’ve ruined every relationship.

Maybe the voice is right: I’m truly alone.

Maybe I’ll get a thousand cats.

Maybe I’m waiting by the phone.

Maybe you hate me like “I hate you.”

Maybe this burning feeling gets stronger.

Maybe the rumors you started are true.

Maybe my past lasts longer.

Maybe tomorrow I stay in my bed.

Maybe I never wake to begin.

Maybe my sleep will last a thousand years.

Maybe I’m gone and won’t be missed.

Maybe my curse will last forever.

Maybe I’m not trying to get better.

Maybe I did this to myself.

Maybe you’ll send me a letter.

Maybe one day I’ll be happy.

Maybe one day I’ll be okay.

Maybe I’ll make it: I’ll be alive.

Maybe someday I’ll come out to play.

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"A Pondering"

I often feel I’ve lost some kind of connection.

I fall in love with people, make them my obsession.

But now I wonder if I’d go too far

Just to keep a relationship from falling apart.

I’ve never been in love, just infatuated.

I feel many things strongly, like love and hatred.

If I ever fell into the abyss,

Would I cross a line, would there be something I’d miss?

Could someone love me if they had to calm me down?

Would they bother to save me or just let me drown?

What if my next boyfriend is unstable like me, too?

Could I fix him or just try and be the glue?

I did that last time and we were messed up.

And then we fell apart when he fell in love.

But what if I was on the flipside?

If my love’s too strong, will he try to deny?

Would he keep me safe when my head’s not sound

Or will we too be doomed at the starting round?

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"Entanglement"

from my upcoming release, Anecdotes Regarding Adalaide.

There’s a sort of entanglement within me.

Every line leads to one fountain.

One reaction for twelve million problems

But I cannot see them each clearly…

I don’t know why I’m crying.

Almost feels like I constantly need fixing

but I can never achieve healing.

Is it me or is it the environment

that keeps me from being happier?

Am I really the problem?

Am I wrong to be wanting satisfaction

from the people who are important?

No. Friends should make you feel loved, so should lovers.

So I feel alone by their accord.

But it can’t all be that bad…

Entanglement; many messes connected

in a jumbled knot of tangled cords.

Also, see; multiple problems causing a

Breakdown due to the intensity

of the emotions you feel.

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"Can You?"

from my book, "The Way I Felt: A Collection of Poems From MY High School Years" (Check it out here!)

Can you imagine being nailed to a tree?

To blow in the wind like a simple leaf.

Can you imagine making that your fate?

To hang there in agony and patiently wait.

Would you do something like that for me,

Let yourself ache for all to see?

To have a public death for the greater good,

To hear of a better day coming and believe it could.

Can you give up what you scarcely have?

Would you do it for your mom or dad?

Would you feel your life fade away?

Would you even lift your head to say:

“Have patience, have peace.

Care for those, even the least.”

Maybe you can’t imagine it,

But that’s the throne on which my savior sits.

That’s the price He chose to pay

For us to have that better day.

Happy Easter Everyone! (For more, check out my Instagram)

"The Toxic Affair"

I had once considered myself a weed.

But then I discovered something else entirely.

Something like a slower form of choking—

A snake coiled around my soul slowly squeezing.

I wish I were your brand of poison, that we were akin.

But instead, I was the victim. You slowly drew me in.

You became a temptation I’d never meant to willingly feed.

The medication you hooked me on is all I’ll ever need.

You’re the perfect book as I fall back in love with reading.

Yet your touch leaves me branded. You’re seething.

I’m melting to a puddle when you cup my chin

But you’re playing games with me and I’ll never win.

You’re the lover turned antagonist in my story.

But I want you here. You’re my morning glory.

Despite the fact you don’t want to be staying,

You’re still here beside me as I’m decaying.

The toxins take over, seeping beneath my skin.

I am not blind. You would kill me on a whim.

I shouldn’t have let you in. I knew you were ivy.

But now I’m waiting for you to smother me.

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The Beast

I’m running out of time and taking you with me

Unless you somehow change and learn empathy.

I’m in a gown of red petals under a glass dome

Watching you rage against yourself inside your own home.

I’m losing oxygen, attention, and any desire.

But you’re the one beginning to perspire.

Remember when you told me I was too much for your pallet?

That I was too tall, too loud, too desperate for your palace?

I hope that someone like me will one day capture your gaze

But that she’ll hate your temper and angst and you’ll have to change.

If you can be transformed into someone who will see the end of the aisle,

It’ll take her years to shape you and you don’t have that while.

If you change for her, then I’ll have a chest set on fire.

For I bloomed for you, your attention feeds my desire.

Even if you change, I’ll die in my crystal prison

While you shine a light on your beautiful prism.

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"Yet Again"

from my next book, Anecdotes Regarding Adalaide.

Soft billowing salty waves,

Reeds that dance and sway,

And the mirage of an island nearby

Make this a perfect holiday.

The silence away from the sea,

The room amid the crowded beach,

Feels a lot like the you and I

Together in our misery.

The island mountains reminded me of home

But now they make me feel alone,

Stuck to die in isolation

Surrounded by pearly foam.

The salty air we breathe in,

Wondering if I could ever win,

And aching for you to give in

To loving me yet again.

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"I'm Fine"

from my poetry book "The Way I Felt" (check it out here!)

“How are you feeling?” Well, I’m feeling really terrible.

I hate the feeling that I’m always on the centerfold.

I hate the facade I feel like I have to show.

I hate the reason that I hate being called beautiful.

“How are you doing?” Well, I’m doing as well as I can,

But being honest, I don’t really have a plan.

I hate regretting that I even have a man.

I hate the fact I can’t stand holding his hand.

“What’s going on with you?” Do you even care?

Do you even take notice that I’m not there?

Do you feel my presence around you, everywhere?

Do you even care that my life isn’t fair?

“I’ll see you later.” No, you never will.

’Cause even as we’re speaking, I’m on the windowsill.

I shake the thoughts away and swallow down my pill.

I breathe in relief as the thoughts go still.

“Talk to you later!” Please keep checking in.

You have no idea the way my head begins to spin.

I can feel like an outsider in my own skin,

But this is a battle I’ll fight to win.

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"Thistle"

If I were to compare thine skin to another being,

There would be nothing alike in all I’ve seen.

You’re soft to the touch of my fingertips

But now I’m bleeding from my wrists.

You’re like a spiderweb blowing in the breeze.

Beautiful, dangerous, doing as you please.

But truly, love, your skin’s a thistle.

You seem so refined but you constantly bristle.

Your skin compared to mine would make a scene.

My true grace and your snakeskin together seem obscene.

For I am not evil and your beauty lies,

Yet I am the one the world shall despise.

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The Festival

from my upcoming book, Anecdotes Regarding Adalaide

I’ve never experienced a town-come-together quite like this, Where a community falls under a joined spell of bliss.

The festivities take over and the atmosphere changes.

Friendly neighbors begin welcoming the visiting strangers.

People peddle wares and show off their craft—

Artists of every trade impress for as long as the firelight lasts.

There’s a wafting in the air from all the delicacies

And a plethora of colorful banners announcing activities.

I myself am not from the land that hosts our gathering.

But a friend of mine is from here and this is her homecoming.

She treats the carnival as though its a party just for her,

Reveling in their celebrational blur.

Moments of the festival flash through my cerebral,

Some of them so vivid I almost doubt that they’re real.

What I dub as real is what I remember as colors;

That bright and melancholy spectrum that’s unlike any other.

I deem them true because they made an impression

So much that out of all the highlights, the colors are my obsession.

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"A Poem For Me"

from my book, "The Way I Felt: A Collection of Poems From My High School Years" (check it out here!)

For myself, I have little words.

The ones I had were iced and now hurt.

At one point, my words made life ideal.

Words like “special” and “priceless” now sound unreal.

Once I grew, the words turned sharp:

“Unwanted,” “unloved,” and others began to harp.

I numbered them out. Now all words are gone—

A sanctuary and a choir now without a song.

Some words come from other places:

“Hey, I love you,” friendly faces.

But I’ve heard those empty words from people I loved,

Words like that my numbness wants to shove.

I like myself, so don’t cry for me,

For I am not miserable.

But all the words inside my head

Are twisted and jumbled.

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