​All too well do humans know

After death where corpses go

Into earth, flesh and bone

Entombed beneath a dated stone

That we may never be forgot

Though our bodies swell and rot

But by and by we’re broken down

With help from creatures underground

At rapid pace are we consumed

To this bleak fate we all are doomed

Yet all our deaths do new life bring

As after winter comes the spring

Soil brimming with the dead

Finds the roots of plants well fed

And though we slumber peacefully

We grow as bloom and blade and tree

Toward the sky we rise and rise

For no one ever truly dies.


Coincidence continued.

Legs tucked close to my chest.

Forehead on the shower floor.

Tap water and tears mixing in the drain.

Heaving, breathing, crying.

Not even sure why.

Am I happy or sad I made it home tonight?

A chest that used to hold a heart

with every breath now hearkens 

to another plane of existence

where only pain exists

and there are no exits.

So I imagine drowning

in tears and tap water

I race til, breathless, I meet the end

and savor peaceful death.

Coincidence continued.


Normal people don’t feel like this after weddings.

Normal people don’t react this way to the joy of others.

I tried to have a good time. I drank, I danced.

I drove home.

I drove home, knowing I was sober, but wishing I wasn’t.

Because then, the next morning, when they pulled me from the marsh,

covered in mud, filled up with seawater, car wrecked,

they would blame it on the alcohol.

I would rather they thought I drove drunk

than depressed.



I had a panic attack yesterday. When I passed you on the way to the bank, you looked right at me. It was just for a second, but I saw everything. Your new sunglasses, your longer hair, your hint of a summertime tan. I made it into the parking lot before I broke down. 
I’ve walled the memories of us up, shut them out so effectively that most of the time it seems like everything we had only happened in a dream. Seeing you, out there in the real world, so unexpectedly, shattered everything. It’s not easy to ignore a problem when it’s looking you in the face. And it’s not a problem I’m yet prepared to deal with.
The result was a raw, teary-eyed, chest-heaving mess of a girl in my car. I could sense the stares of the people pulling into the spaces on either side of me but didn’t dare return their gazes. I wonder if they thought I was crazy. Who could blame them?
I tell myself everyday that I can move on, but I haven’t. I remind myself you were never really mine, but I was absolutely yours. I only want you to know that everything I wrote in the letter I gave you remains true, and I miss you.
I miss you.


This will probably be edited.

So this is my vengeance, words bladed, the weapons inflicting a lesson you won’t be forgetting.

You vanished, a ghost, no warning, no note, just left me alone with no love and no hope.

And I pleaded, I cried, I repeatedly tried to find you, remind you, of what were just lies.

And now that I know that you’re fickle and low, that you’d break me, degrade me, and drop me for show,

I will tell you this once, pay attention, please, dunce, now and forever: fuck off, you cunt.

This will probably be edited.


The last few months

my memory has blanks

as though my brain’s got buckshot damage

and everything seeps slowly out of one hole

while I’m trying to patch another.

It’s like staying up late after a long day

and lying in bed thinking

about what you did that same morning

as the twilight of sleep grips you

and when you wake up

you have no idea

what you dreamed and what actually happened.


Sometimes entire days go missing

and I won’t even notice

unless someone mentions a conversation

I don’t remember having.

I have clothes on I don’t remember buying.

I have leftover food I don’t remember tasting.

I have books on the shelf I don’t remember reading.


But I can remember

from two weeks ago

the sweet mint on your breath

the first time you kissed me.

I can still feel

the cool closeness

of your forehead against mine.

I can still smell

the musk of your curls

the first time I tousled them with my fingers

after having spent a year imagining doing so

every time I saw you.

I remember

your warm palm against mine

and your fingers so long

that you could fold them back down

over the ends of my own.

I memorized

our limbs intertwined

and our torsos pressed together

and the smiles

that crept across our faces

like wildfire

that night and for days after.


And even now

when the distance between us

because you’re scared

because you don’t love yourself enough

to love anyone else

has caused the twinge in my chest

and the vacancy in my days

to seem overwhelming

I don’t want to forget you.

And anyway, I can’t forget

the feeling of hope

that has pulsed through my veins

with every heart beat

since the first time you grinned at me.