Mama, he’s everywhere.

He’s in the Willow
that weeps against my shoulders,
tendrils brushing my skin
in a silent apology.

He’s in the setting sun,
bruising the sky with indigo
and its crimson wars.
He’s kissing the horizon goodbye.

He’s in the moonlight, mama,
tucking me into the dreams
that he is entombed within.

He’s in my lungs,
haunting every word.

He’s in the blood
that riots in my veins.

He’s in my heart,
rooted so deeply
that he’s ensnared my soul.

Mama, I love him.

Temporary.

The sun that touches my skin
will set before today’s end,
the moonlight that tucks me in
will wane from the sky,
and the stars that reign proudly
will fall beneath the weight of my wishes.

I am held by light that only knows
how to say goodbye.
The universe kisses me away.
My soul is bruised
with the colors of the galaxy.

I have only ever been temporary.
The whisper of life
that never quite lasted through Spring.

If we fall in love,
there’s nothing we could do.

You’d hold my heart
and ask me to choose,

Could I forsake
my family for you?

This skin has survived
twenty years of torment,
neglect, hatred,
it has never known peace
or comfort or love.

The soul imprisoned
beneath it
riots against the surface
and screams
in the marrow of my bones.

I have walked this Earth
two decades, now,
and every step
has been a battle cry.

I am breaking
from the inside out,
and my heart
is the only casualty.

It’s okay to be sad in Spring

Let the sun seep into your skin
on Sunday mornings,
feel its caress and forgive
the love who no longer holds you.

Let the grass kiss your toes
and let the willow weep in your honor,
it’s okay to be sad in Spring.

When you press your hands together
feel your pulse, strong and relentless.
Accept that life holds you
with a noose-like grip,
thank it for keeping you
when nothing else would.

Taste your food. Actually taste it.
Put too much salt on your fries,
too much sugar in your coffee.
Remind yourself that there is something
still “good” in this world.

When night falls, allow the moon
to tuck you into a silent sleep.
Bear the aching in your heart
for the hope in your dreams.
Let it show you fear,
let it show you its longings,
let it show you that pain
is not the only thing you can feel.

It’s Monday morning,
the sun still lingers on your skin.
This world will not leave you
even though someone has.
Let the grass kiss your toes,
let the Willow weep for you.

It’s okay to be sad in Spring.

Mama,
wake up
and tell me
I’m dreaming,
that this
is a nightmare,
that I don’t
really feel
anything at all.

Promise me
that I’ll be okay,
that I’ll awake
sometime soon,
that I’m just
lost in my head.

Mama, wake up,
mama, don’t cry,
mama, I’m alive
but I’m not breathing.

Mama, I need you
to tell me I’m wrong,
to teach me how to stay.
I never learned, anyways,

Mama, wake me up.
I beg you, wake me up.

And maybe I was wrong
to read his story,
to open his chest
like my favorite book,
pry deep behind his ribs
to unearth the secrets
entombed in his soul.

He had the universe
bound in the seams
of his humanity
and he harbored
such a quiet darkness
in his lungs.

His touch burned like stars
and his words
chilled me to my bone.
He was the sweetest ending
I have ever known.

Mama he’s marrying her today.
He bought a house with her today.
He promised her forever, today.
They’re together today. For always.

Mama I’m crying today.
Mama, I’m dying today.
Mama, I can’t make it today;
Forgive me, today.

I just can’t stay.
I just can’t stay.
I just can’t stay.

When you were younger,
you were wide eyes
and chubby cheeks,
shaky knees and wobbly steps.

Years later, decades,
a fractured heart,

You looked in the mirror
and I saw you, then,
weighed heavily by regret.
Your palm, pressed against the glass,
broke your own reflection.

I kissed you then, recklessly.
Inhaled the anchors in your lungs
so you could breathe easily.

I told you the night stained your skin.
You’re three shades more beautiful than I.
You hold the stars in your eyes
and the universe on your tongue.

That bright eyed child is crying
behind your ribs,
and I hear him, I hear him,
I love him, too.

Lift your hand from the glass,
let me tend to your wounds.
I love you, I love you.

Why do people like him
fall for people like me,

stories like ours
end in tragedy.

Mama I pressed my lips
to his throat
and kissed the pulse
of a broken man,

I could taste the aching
in his heartbeat.

I pressed my ear
to his chest
and listened
to his demons.

"He loves you,
he loves you”

I pressed my palms
to his face
and begged the sun
to keep him.

I am leaving, mama,
I am gone.

I tore the stars
from the sky,
pressed them
into his palms.

Prayers,
to keep him warm.

Prayers, mama,
to quiet the war
waging in his soul.
Prayers, mama,

to save him
when I no longer can.


Stay awake with me,
we’ll count the fallen stars
and let them burn
into the palm of our hands.

We’ll keep them like prayers
and all our secrets.
We are heavy
in our silence.

Tell me does this Earth
crumble beneath the weight
of all our sorrow?
Is that why fault lines
tear across mountains?
Is that why every wave
must break against the shoreline?

The sun sets
in the belly of the ocean,
the moon weeps
into her throne,
wanes from the sky
like a fallen monument.

It is so damn hard
to feel alive
when living
is an act of decay.

There is no more time, darling.
Stay awake with me.

Let’s watch as this planet
tells us goodbye.

I cant cope with irl problems so I bought another aquarium.

Mama I think I misplaced my heart again.

I woke up in the middle of August,
my palms lifted to the sunlight
in a silent prayer.

And I wondered, mama,
I wondered
why it  felt so cold.

My breath left my chest
in wisps of white
that dissipated in the wake of dawn.

Where did it go,
who keeps it for me, now?

The ghosts in my lungs
are no longer my own.

There is a darkness
buried behind my ribs,
entombed in quiet solitude.

Something is stirring
within me,
cold and aching
like splintered bones.

Everything hurts, mama.

My words are silent
in their emptiness