stay

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.

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. 🙂