carnivals

mirrored mirages of your phases from yesteryear
almost looked like my own reflection–
my dusty pinks washed away dreams of cotton candy and
you. you handed me dying flowers, and
i pretended it was the thought that counted (even though
the only thing you were counting were the days
we had left).
glitter on sidewalks still makes me nauseous.

Advertisements

not (mine) yours

at 5 y/o,
i learnt that
no one belongs to anyone.
i tried to hug you in your
blue shirt;
i said i would call you mine
forever. but, you
still left
that little town we called
home.
when you left, you
looked back twice (no
more no less).

not hurting in
3,
2,
1.

penny for my thoughts?

It’s okay to hate yourself. I’ve come to realize this after a while of living– it helps you deal when others begin to do the same.

I write pretty words to make people think that I have pretty thoughts.
I just want to get through the day.

Do dark eyes shine in bright lights?

memorial for dead nouns

June 30, 2017

home hands hello’s wholeness
eternity earls
entities i’s
involvement cries commitment
candids desire dances
dwelling gods gold gowns
reality roots tomorrow’s
touches tone tear tongue
teen(spirit) sound souls
songs scent cigarettes scintillation
nights nobody knowing
wakings
us

good bye’s