Define love. tell me what it is. tell me how it makes you feel. tell me what love means to you. let love make me appear as perfect. let love paint me out to be a god. allow love to let you allow me to come in. infiltrate all parts. of you.
Love. Me.
as the words get stuck in my throat. love them out of me. make them unstuck.
Love. Me.
tell me what love is to you. tell me if it is me. help me express how I feel. about you. about us. help me lower the walls that were elevated before. you. Loved me. before you. haunted me. tell me. what is love. to you.
because to me, is you. it’s perfection that doesn’t know it’s been perfected. it’s chaos that doesn’t know it makes perfect sense. it’s kisses that stop time. Love is. you. Love is. me. accepting every part of you. tell me. how does love make you. feel. define it. tell me how. love makes you. feel.

p L e a s e

promise me that you’ll always look at me, with questions in your eyes
promise that you’ll never attempt to figure me out, that you’ll never try to know all of me,

every crack – every perfection

promise me
that you’ll leave for days at a time
without telling me where you’ve gone
promise that you’ll never spread us too thin, that you’ll only love me as much as I allow you too
promise me that you’ll never try to figure out why – why we are, why we aren’t, why we can’t stay away from one another

v I c e r a l

What would I had done if I lost you? Not that you’re mine. But a piece of your heart still is, right?

How would I have found out? Would I have found out…

I don’t do well with death, with funerals. But, would I have went to yours? I mean, how exactly do you say goodbye to someone you haven’t said hello to in years?

Would you have visited me while I slept? Like so many others have.

Is there anything I would have regretted? Saying, not saying, keeping distance?

Would I have felt like dying too?

Who would I have leaned on for support? Would my lover still comfort me if I am grieving for another man who still had a part of me?

You taught me something that day. You taught me to reach out to people during times that I can’t stop thinking about them. You taught me not to fight with intuition.

And you taught me that you do still matter.

You |


you will ruin me
i know this, and still
i cannot stop myself from
clinging to the edge of your soul
still, I cannot stop myself from
giving you permission to 
use me
however you choose
because even in ruins, and
even in ash
there is glory
even in debris
there is beauty
and, even in chaos
there is sense.


1:42 a.m.

Romeo and Juliet type
love that’s worth all the hype
love that we requite
because we can’t be
and I feel that all up inside of me
like, how I can’t tell you I love you
like, how I can’t tell you I crave you
I fear our end
wading in our future
because you’re too damn perfect
something I can’t explain
giving me something I can’t tame
let’s run away to foreign lands
run away from everything
let’s decide to leave the pain…

…to be continued

The tired soul


*written July 20, 2017

Chester died today. And I would be lying if I said that I was not utterly devastated. I feel as if my heart has been killed. I feel as if a mentor, a brother, a light in my life has died. I don’t understand.

He saved every inch of my little life. Linkin Park, as a collective, saved my life.

Chester healed so many souls, yet, he couldn’t heal his. His music helped so many people survive life, yet his music couldn’t touch him the same way it touched us.

The thing about suicide is that you can always feel it lurking. You can sense it trying to find a place to fit into your life. You can feel the energy of it attempting to feed off of any fuel you give it. And sometimes it’s comforting to have it around. Lurking, watching, waiting for you to slip just enough for it to intrude. And times it’s so overwhelming that you want to leave the door to your soul open so that it can walk through, have a seat, and tell you what to do.

And although we can sense suicide, it’s effects are still horribly heartbreaking when it wins. Horribly heartbreaking.

I am horribly heartbroken

is 33 too late


I’m supposed to get pregnant this year.
I’m strongly reconsidering that plan.
August 8th will be my two year wedding anniversary.
November 6th will be my 32nd year on earth.
My window,
it’s getting shorter and shorter.

The variables. So many variables.

I like my sleep.
I like my money.
I like only having to get myself ready in the morning.
I don’t like getting up early.
I like not being required to cook everyday.
I like being able to get up and go wherever I want, whenever I want.
I like not making plans.
I like traveling light.
I like my home clean.
I like my body as it is.
I like yelling when I’m angry.

But, I want a family. I want a tribe. I want picnics in the park and on rooftops. I want to sit in a circle and teach them Spanish. I want to teach them how to count, how to read, how to write. I want to load up the family car and take trips to the beach. I want to teach them respect by introducing them to cultures around the world. I want them to learn French in France and Thai in Thailand. I want to watch this little person grow and change the world.

I want everything great that comes with children, but I’m still selfish.
I’m still selfish.