What am I supposed to do when you’re looking into my eyes and I can’t look back?

I’m trying to avoid the intimacy,

trying to think of other things,

or rather, other people.

and how maybe they would complete me more than you.

How selfish is that?

When you’ve given me a taste of your body and mind,

and all I’m thinking about is how I wish you would stop looking me in the eyes,

so I can diminish our relationship down to sex.

so I can justify you as a lesson,

as a significant but small piece in my journey to finding someone that’s not you.

And yet, I don’t want to let you go,

because you’re keeping me warm like a blanket.

I love the way you love,

showing me affection,

all while I turn my head to look out the window.





The Beautiful Girl Who Fell

I know that you’re afraid,

afraid of what’s going to happen when the life that you’ve spent years building for yourself falls apart.

But, what I really think you’re afraid of is your life falling together in a way that you didn’t prepare yourself for.

You think that you’re stuck.

So you’ve built your own cage,

and have been keeping yourself locked up inside of it, like a man who is afraid to leave prison because the real world seems too daunting.

What’s fallen apart is you,

when you let go of your spirit,

and watched it fall into a black hole of smothered existence.

You’re the only person who can get yourself out.

So take a look up at the stars,

and remember that you were born to be radiant.

You, my dear,

are way too fiery

and way too passionate

to be suffocating in a hole of darkness.



Everyone is thinking they’re so different.

That’s how we know that we’re not.

The world just got so split into pieces that we forgot.

Forgot that our hearts all beat the same,

that we’ve all been inspired, and loved and broken.

And so we spend our lives trying to put ourselves back together,

using people, and places and things

to fill in the cracks of our humanness.

Acting like we’re so different,

when we’re really just one person,

coming apart and coming together

all at the same time.



It takes courage to be a woman.

Some people do not see the words that come from your mouth as a message,

but merely as an accessory of your being,

as if your body is the only part of you that has meaning.

They can barely handle your flesh.

They see a nipple and they squirm,

like it is not ok to have breasts,

or like having them is all you are.

I did not know that having a chest gave anyone the right to send me messages of dick-shaped emojis.

I know what the boys used to say about me in the locker room,

and so I made a pact that I would hide my body because I wanted to be more than what they said.

But now, I show it to you because I know that I am more than that.

Boys, I wish you could understand what it is like to be a woman,

to receive praise and degradation all in the same hour,

to be called aggressive for saying “Do not speak to me that way,”

to have to train myself to not care about the words that come out of your ignorant mouths.






He’s not the one.

He’s just a one in a life of ones.

Like a flake of snow that falls on my lips,

beautiful and enchanting.

Eventually, it will melt away.

But for now, I will let it rest there.

There are no wasted relationships in life.

Only lessons,

like the beauty of love and how to give it.

I don’t have to be in love with you to love who you are.

I don’t have to sit by the fire and let you melt away just because I know you aren’t forever.

For now, I will lay in the frozen tundra,

letting you stare at my face as if it were as beautiful as the mountains that surround us.

From Girl to Girl

We live in a generation full of powerful women.

But, not all of us are beautiful.

I’m not referring to our outsides, but to the heart that lies in our chests,

to the mind that sits in our heads.

We women are full of judgement and hate for members of our own species.

We are all ugly sometimes,

even when we feel beautiful.

We choose shame over love.

We pick discouragement over acceptance.

We let other peoples’ ideas tell us what we think a woman should be.

Worst of all, we critique each other over the fabric that sits on our bodies,

for wearing too much,

for not wearing enough.

But, have we ever thought to ask ourselves why?

I have a thought.

Here it is.

What if choose to not buy into the notion that the world is selling sexuality,

but rather,

that the world is embracing it?