Somedays the noise of the ten lane baby sings so loud it blurs out the sun

i never met her in the heat, her brown eyes and black hair collecting the sun.

a love letter to LA

Can I pour the sunsets, all the glorious sunsets into my tub? I’d like to bathe in every hue of pink and purple. Maybe wrapping up in all that color would make me different. Maybe I’d be different then.

a tiny ode to this bittersweet existence

Notepad sized remnants of longing. Letters full of words that I haven’t heard a person mumble in my direction, for what feels like an eternity.

Overcoming emotional and physical abuse.

Maybe it was the late nights and glow sticks that cloud my memory.

sadness no longer sharpens it’s teeth inside my stomach – it pours from me into shapeless meaning.

I would listen to you talk about the street names and you’d let me choose the music on our long drives.

a poem

How many lives can I live within a lifetime?

I am stuck inside the duality of holding on and letting go, all at once.

I’m above ground, connected to the earth by rubber – and it’s true, life still continues on all around me.

The imaginary legs to keep me moving on.

Waking up in the same place, unable to replace the old with anything new.