my soul is expanding. i am growing a garden within this body. roses and sunflowers are blooming up into my chest. my heart is surrounded by growth.

the thorns of the roses pierce my stomach as they bloom taller and more beautiful. my soul is made up of roses and sunflowers; i am both beauty and pain.

— growing pains

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starry night

stars light up the sky

becoming a colony of love

i’ve never seen so many stars

under the same sky before

my neck extends and i can’t stop

imagining my soul becoming covered

in stars, i cannot stop imagining my soul

as a star. there’s a myth that every

star in the sky represents a soul

i wonder what collection of stars my soul

is made up of

— my soul is meant to be admired

ocean eyes

i am standing at a great precipice between

the ocean and a river of my own blood

the ocean looks so inviting and

mysterious

i am drawn to its depth

i know that i will fall

drown and

die if i step off this precipice into the

abyss but it is more appealing than

standing in the river of my own blood

for another four years

— your eyes make me feel like i’m drowning

you were the last person in my life to touch me

your hands created a rippling hurricane that

destroyed any kind of hope i had for the future

 

you were the person that set the curve for what

love is supposed to be like, you have painted the

image of love in my mind in thick red and black

acrylic paint

 

i chipped off the red and black

i repainted the walls of my mind in yellow and blue

i destroyed the curve you set and created my own

standards of love and i made it a self-portrait

 

when i think of you, i no longer feel the longing

i no longer feel trapped i don’t feel your hands on

me anymore searching for more than i was ready

to give

 

i finally have lungs to breathe

a heart that beats

and hands that no longer feel like yours

 

i am free from your grasp

free to feel again

to experience life without the

fear of you bumping into me

along the way

 

i am no longer your prisoner

 

–  thank you for setting me free

Meet me between the bookshelves, between fiction and the poetic writings of Emily Dickinson. Meet me where my love resides, where my fingers run over spines, and yours run over mine. My love lives between these bookshelves, my soul is immortalized with every breath these stories breathe. Walk me through the poetry of Dylan Thomas, where he warns us to not go gentle into the good night. I sit between the bookshelves looking for you with my thumb and finger, feeling the edges you’ve tried to mend, folding over the stories I want to revisit. You are a story to be experienced by all the senses.

We disappear between the white cotton sheets of our bed like we do between the bookshelves. My head rests on your chest while your heart beats with the rhythm of poetry pumping blood through your arteries. I write poetic lines about your lips and the way they feel against my thighs. I write how your lips look when you take a drag from the flame, and how they part when you exhale the smoke.

— the day i met you was the day i found my freedom

you are uncomfortable

seeking to find a greater truth

than the one you’ve come to

learn, trying to find

comfort in

lies

you are afraid

trying to learn how to see light

in the darkness, aware of

the unknown, you search for

something

or someone, to protect you

you are alone

searching for someone to

help you realize your

irrational fear of

large windows,

where people can see your every

thought

feeling, and

desire. you are waiting for someone

to pull down the blinds, and

disappear inside your mind with you

you are strong

there is not a thing you couldn’t

handle, conquering all the

obstacles you’ve placed

in front of yourself, there is

no sense of failure

you are fearless

unafraid of the unknown,

you look straight through the dark,

walking endlessly, you

do not look back in fear of

forgetting something along the way

you are complete

with no need of someone to

pull down the blinds, hiding you

away from the world

the large windows in your mind

shine the light in, and

you are bright without

irrational fear of

disappearing,

so open up the blinds,

you are to be shared with the world

— i am multidimensional

 

The waves bow in the presence of the moon, he is gentle in her presence; calm and still.

The moon listens to her lovers sounds, the sounds of him crashing at her mercy.

The waves send a message to the lonely moon, asking her when she will return to him.

“Come meet me, my love,” he whispers. She calls back to him, “if only if only.”

The waves kiss the earth she brightens up, crying out “please come back home to me.” The moon smiles in response, “if only if only.”

— my love for you is like the stillness of the lake

touched

We sit on the grass in front of the buildings, the sun is setting, and I feel comfortable. The weather is crisp enough to wear my favorite jacket. We talk of the dreams, the nightmares, the life that we live, the afterlife we want. The sun is still setting, and the sky is on fire. His hand makes its way to my inner thigh and rests there, without making another move. In mid-sentence, I am caught off guard, and my heart starts racing. He notices my change in posture and how my tongue is tripping over my teeth. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched. I look up at the sky and I think about how the stars never really go away, and how we are always in their presence even when we forget. The boy leans in closer, kisses my cheek, slowly turns my face towards his, and kisses my lips. The stars appear and they fall from the sky, and call my skin their new home. His lips are on mine, and I light up the night.

Love vs. Romance;

have I ever known the difference?

Love was the feeling of his vulnerable skin under my fingertips.

Romance was the way your eyes looked at me from across the table

with nothing to say.

Giants

The mountains look as if they were each individually covered by the quilts my grandmother sews. Each piece of her heart sewn into the land her ancestors sowed. The sun sets and the mountains look like sleeping giants curled up on beds of trees, covered with quilts. The moon rises, and the stars light up the night sky helping travelers find their way home, away from these sleeping giants. 
But I have found a home between these quilted beds, I admire the stars and no longer search for a way back.