a letter to my future self (because i am cheesy)

to be opened when needed

you should write the poem

and stop scrolling through your phone while you do the dishes

or trying to eat your food with one hand

you should call your friends

you should listen to the butterflies in your stomach

and stop always doing as you’re told

you should get your shit together

listen to a lullaby

and cry your eyes out as you scroll through parenting articles on your phone

take a shower and get changed out of your work clothes

you should sing yourself a song

put on some heels

and dance around your bedroom

until you fuck up your ankle, and you fall to the ground

ibut t’s okay

you don’t have to be perfect

or try to make money off every single fucking thing you like to do

you survived

that’s what matters

you made it through another day

and in case no one has said so in a while, i’m really proud of you

oh tired soldier

oh crossfire baby

oh fighter girl

you’re not a weapon

you’re not wasted potential

with room to improve

so put down the mallet

put down the blade

’cause pretty soon, you’re not even gonna remember

what it’s like to feel this way


she called my name / like i was a lost puppy / and she held my hand so tight / did i tell you that, over the phone / way too late / honey eyelids and beeswax bones / starting to melt in the midsummer heat / did i tell you that i almost stayed there, hiding in tree branches / cowering under blankets / and worshipping that strangulation heat / and i imagined, in the back of my mind / that i might stay there for the rest of eternity / but i didn’t do that, obviously / i looked out the window / and disintegrated at the slightest breeze / ’cause these days i’m some kind of sand-sculpture girl / dry throat / always dizzy / so if i could just lie down, and stay here forever / would that be the worst deal? honestly? / but if i were to lie down on the gravel beach / surrounded by mansions we will never afford / would she laugh / and sit down beside me / would she point at the lights in the sky / and we’d wonder / if the ufos had landed / or the moon was tumbling from the sky / if we’d ever truly escape / with tears on our eyes / and maybe this time / the buzzing cicadas would stay forever if we willed it so / maybe we could sculpt the cliffs to our liking / and entrench our hopes into the polluted sea / you know?

So, this is partially fictional and partially real. I went to this really cool beach with a friend, like, a few weeks ago, but a lot of this is sort of fabricated, using that setting and, like, for lack of a less meme-ified word, the vibes of the place to tell a fictional story. I’ve been trying to give myself permission to write more fictional poems of late, and it’s been really fun.

little things

i’m obsessed with gentle love

cardamom palms on my shoulders

and a hand on top of mine

i could eat it up like turkish delight

and write about it all day long

like a little kid, crying into a pillow

some fucked-up brand of self soothing i am too proud to exhume

’cause i’m pissed off and sad

and sometimes, looking in on happy endings from the outside

makes me want to cry

tears of anger and relief

and mostly why why why

i’m obsessed with an infinite love

that stands the test of time

a love where we listen like a symphony

and never stop changing our minds

and we’re eighty years old, and still best friends

so bury us side by side

is that normal?

i don’t really know how this stuff works

so excuse me, if i trip over my words

because my love always tended

to wither in my palms

but i like the little things about you

half-minutes where i just want to believe

that we could stay like this for the rest of eternity

make dinner, and go on a walk

and watch tv

and all this bullshit would be worth it

if i had you, and you had me

and maybe we’d never be each others’ everythings

but you’d be my anchor

and the wind that blows me out to sea

you’d be my lilac spring bloom

and my rose-petal certainty

you’d be soft, and clear like the shore

and i’ll catch you if you catch me

You can interpret this to be about love, but it doesn’t have to be! I feel like we put way too much focus on romantic love, when, like, there are so many other interesting bonds to write about, so I left this piece purposefully ambiguous.

blanket fort

it’s another lavender day, synapses sending tingles down my spine. i hope the clouds won’t turn to thunder, because i can’t take one more calamity in this house of cards, okay? so i’m gonna do my schoolwork, and try not to fall asleep. and maybe afterwards, i’ll build a blanket fort. if i feel up to it.

even though those my fairy lights ran out of battery. and i haven’t watered my plants, or checked my email for days. and maybe i should blame it on the humidity, because it always makes my hair look pretty, but for the first time in a while it feels like something good is beginning.

and that’s gotta mean something. that after all these months of staring out windows, and not having the energy, last sunday i did everything on my to-do list with time to spare. that the days stretch and expand to fit me, like the perfect sweater. and as i watch the frostbite recede from my fingertips, there’s the slightest temptation in my brain: that maybe, i could stay like this forever. come home from work and know that’s it, there’s nothing left to do.

wrap myself up in blankets, and watch a show, make a lazy dinner, read a book or two. and spend all the time i could, laughing about internet memes and inside jokes with you. thinking about sticky-sweet words i don’t know at to say out loud like you’re my family and i love you.

i sleep by the door, with my sword at the ready, and wake up covered in dew.

This is pt. 2 of me trying to capture a very specific mood via poetry–and generally pushing my comfort zone a bit. I’m going through this phase where being ridiculously cryptic and putting lots of symbolism into my writing is just my SHIT, I cannot get enough of it, and I guess now I’m just going to make it everyone else’s problem. 🙂


fill me up. right to the brim. watch me dance around the kitchen, and sing off-key to cheesy pop songs i haven’t heard since i was eleven.

or roll around in campground fields, and laugh like an idiot. because i forgot that being happy felt… like this. like this, and this, and this… forgot that i even had a life outside of a computer screen, to be honest.

but i do. and i know it’s not perfect. but it’s hard not to believe that… maybe things are gonna be okay. maybe we’ll climb trees and listen to podcasts, and i will love you more than anything in this. exact. moment.

and i know it’s been a while. know the world is a mess. but i promise you. we’ll work it out. just like we always do.

I feel like I just have this whole recurring series of sappy friendship poems, and it’s just… a thing, I guess–yeah. I don’t know if anyone really likes these things, but, yanno, they make me happy, and hopefully they make you happy too. I wrote this piece the first time I saw my best friend after three months of quarantine, and… I don’t know, it was a really good day. And I guess I just wanted to write something to, in some small way, preserve it. Because that moment was really special to me.

Lots of love,