Kissing you feels like coming home. It's returning to my childhood house as an adult. Things are exactly as I left them, as I loved them. But, I've been away for so long, and things don't feel quite right. And when it clicks, it will break our hearts to learn that our pieces don't fit together… Continue reading Home
No one told me that it isn't the heart that's the problem. It's that my lungs are filled with concrete and I can't breathe without you. It's that I feel so concave, suddenly. There is nothing housed within my ribcage and any moment now, I will collapse inward. It's that there is this burning in… Continue reading Untitled
My cat clings like worn out velcro. The fibers have been taxed from pulling her off so many times. Once she sticks, nowadays, she stays. If there were ever a daddy's girl in the family, it is my cat. This is the clockwork of their relationship, boiled down: once he arrives home, she runs to… Continue reading The Cat
A timeline of inner feelings. Kind of. September 5, 2016: "I want to be inside you," he texted me. I had never even met this man, and he did not realize he already was inside me - just not the way he was hoping for. He had so much more. His voice curled up in my… Continue reading Unfinished Posts from the Past Year
Some say you can see a candle's flame flickering from 30 miles away in the pitch black. But who cares about that when I can spot you in a crowded room with just a glimpse of the back of your head?
I try to draw a connection between the feelings of love and drowning, and all I recall is a whisper of a memory. My body still remembers fragmented pieces of pain, echoes from a love that hurt for its entire duration. Three years later, I realize what I felt was not worthy to be called love.… Continue reading A Reflection: What I’ve Learned in 3 Years
Don't make mountains of molehills, they say, without helping you decipher between the two. Your sleep is chased away by the ghosts that haunt you in every disastrous lie every boy in your life has told you. The lies reverberate in the type of clarity only hindsight can afford --a record skipping with wild abandon. It… Continue reading The Fault Line