It took a long time for me to consider myself a writer. I still struggle with saying it. I started writing at a young age to work through feelings I didn’t dare tell anyone. I learned that once you start writing, it becomes a part of you. It’s something you always go back to whenever you are overwhelmed with certain emotions. People don’t always listen to your words, but the paper always listens to the pen.
we rise on haunted nights.
ghostly whispers move under a voodoo blood moon, a slow-shimmer-slink of air over bone, their dark love calling us home, cosmic cadavers with claws that sink deep, burning nerves and setting veins on fire we stand on the cusp of shadows, slowly disappearing into the...
now, we burn bright too.
we wrote letters to the sun, heartache and poetry filled with confessions, stories and reasons for why we felt too deeply and fell too quickly we were dragon hearts and dandelion fuzz, graceful power and a shimmer of softness all beautifully broken and bound within...
i’ll show you how the ocean cleanses the soul.
i saw you cast your cares into turquoise seas, watched you fumble with these glass emotions until they became stars in an amethyst sky i already know where you go when you hide and how you swallow down words until only silence remains, abandoned breaths still calling...
the tired and tumultuous.
we’re caught out of orbit, swept up in this downpour of d e s t r u c t i o n (can you taste the chaos) we are itchy fingers on a quick-trigger-hand-grenade, minds dancing with delight at the cold, dark danger, mouths filled with yesterday’s ghosts — isn’t it...
this love is more than hallmark cards.
i don’t celebrate v a l e n t i n e ‘ s day it’s all overpriced roses and cards filled with words that should be said every damn day i don’t celebrate commercialized love and boxed chocolates (i always choose the gross ones anyway) i don’t celebrate pretty heart...
garden of heartache.
wilted, like funeral roses, black and crumbling from the weight of your ghost they sit in stagnant denial, thoughts swirling and dreams drowning in their desolation, petals plucked and seeds strewn — perhaps, they’ll create a garden of heartache for all the lonely...
Social Media Inspiration
Social Media Poetry and Where to Find Inspiration As social media evolves, so do its users. From Facebook pages to Instagram photos to the 280 character spaces of twitter, poetry abounds. When I first joined Twitter, it was not by choice. I was late to the game,...
darkness lives there.
he wears shades of brimstone and damnation, never raven black, all burnished gold, falu and feuillemort his eyes are home to an hidden world made of ancient shadows and sunlight they welcome you into the fire, but you will not survive their invitation to explore new...
lessons.
she had wise eyes, but she wasn’t one for sharing wisdom, so certain that it was vital you make your own mistakes she gave birth, not life, a house, but never a home and so you learned how to burn when it’s cold and you’re alone and you learned about starting over...
you are worthy.
I watch you bend until you’re almost broken, your mind divided and your world stripped bare (you deserve more) you keep your eyes turned down, those brilliant depths of blue now hidden behind a wall of aches (you deserve more) you walk around dripping hearts and...