Soon to be living in Washington DC, out to change the world and learn about humanity along the way. Share your story with me.
1. Wash your sheets every two weeks, I promise you’ll sleep better.
2. If a boy breaks your heart, it’s okay to cry.
3. If a girl breaks your heart, it’s okay to cry.
4. School is important, but there are many things you can’t learn in a classroom. Pursue them.
5. Find your passion, and run with it.
6. No, you don’t need to lose weight.
7. You are beautiful without make up.
8. You are beautiful with make up.
9. Being a good person will never go out of style
10. Buy yourself flowers if you’re feeling sad.
11. Getting enough sleep is very important.
12. Drinking water has so many benefits
13. Believe in fairytales, believe in love, and allow no one to steal your magic.
14. Reading is good for the soul.
15. I am not here to judge you, but I will always support what I think is best for you.
16. I appreciate you.
17. I am proud of you.
18. Even on your worst days, you will never disappoint me.
19. I love you no matter what."
Yesterday, I knew how it would end.
Between sips of milk and knotted thumbs,
I thought of it loudly, all day. Today, I can’t seem
to remember much.
Yesterday, I knew that it would smell of
grass and charred wood and
sound like a hose left running
a few houses down.
Yesterday, I knew that when it ended,
the waterfalls would rush backwards
and the clouds would huddle in a corner of the sky
and my sister would nod to herself in the mirror,
blink twice, and love herself.
Yesterday, I knew how it would end
and that just before it did, the world would blush
and quiver. The soil would chuckle
and ask for water and chuckle again
and as the petals bowed, the lights would dim.
Yesterday, I knew how it would end but today,
I know only that it will, only that you will be there
and you will whisper ‘I love you, baby,
I love you enough to watch you go’.
on the nights she is not there, he sits in the swell of the moon, writes poetry about the way coffee clings to her teeth. she is a vinyl record lullaby, penny pressing the pin to her grooves, skipping over words & hours spent with the pillow cold, his arms aching chasms gasping for breath.
she spends her time repairing clocks, howling at lampposts that have long since burnt out, wrists a mess of poetry & pen ink. it’s the choking that she cannot stand, all this air and nothing but her heartbeat. it’s the way the stars scream across thousands of years and sear handprints on her thighs.
like the poets, we are dust & bones buried under the words we have but cannot say."