Out of my skin

being ripped away

by a longing to touch the sky


the trees dance

like me

stuck in the ground

with nowhere to go

withering away in

the chilled air


I don’t belong in my own skeleton

in a body so disorganized


from my scattered spirit



I’ve come to realize

I am not normal



Self Medication

I’m so sick of doubting myself

feeling like it’s my fault

that you can’t see the stars behind my eyes


I’m sick of you thinking

that I’ll stay

because I want you enough

and one day you think you might just want me back

if you start to need someone again


I’m worth more than

your self medication


“take when needed”



only when it comes in the form

of your body on mine


I’m so sick of loving you

more than anyone in this world


so tell me why I do?




I’ve become accustomed to smiling at you as if you mean nothing more to me than when we were strangers who traveled the same path.

I’ve mastered the art of not looking you in the eye when you speak and holding laughter behind my teeth.

My gums are bruised from fighting words that I know I’ll regret.

         The funny thing is, the second I met you I knew I’d be hiding.

But I thought having you around was enough, so I allowed my heart to become heavy and sink in my chest because wouldn’t it be a miracle if one day you had the strength to pick it up and put it back in its place?

Wouldn’t it be a miracle if one day you forced me to look in your eyes and told me it was okay to come out from my hiding place?

        Wouldn’t it be a miracle if you found me?


I’ve become accustomed to not loving you, but darling I know I do.

Crisp Fall Days

Edgar Allen Poe once said, “I was driven insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.”

I’ve always thought that poets had the most beautiful view of life. They seem to possess the one thing that I’ve always longed desperately for: Clarity.

Some would argue that simply arranging words in order would hardly be considered clarity, but rhyming and patterns do not fall into the definition of poetry for me.

It is about so much more than that.

A crisp fall day can be described as just that. But if you look around for a moment, breathe in air, you don’t even think twice about how each chilled gasp of oxygen enters your lungs.

But there are moments of clarity, when I’m aware of every steady beat against my chest from an organ that can only be explained in scientific terms, when I realize how my senses are so particular that I can feel, smell, and hear the masses that fill the space around me. Knowing that there is life beneath my feet as I trudge through the freshly cut green that has become damp from the rain that has fallen from an endless sky.

A sky we will never reach.

When I notice how everything is so beautifully impossible and unexplainable…

Those are the moments that make a poet.

I’ve always found it interesting that Poe claims to have gone insane from living in sanity, but maybe the complex mind of a poet becomes too overwhelmed by seeing a world filled so much good, and equally as much bad.

Maybe, just maybe, he lost his mind when he let his poetry get consumed by the darkest parts reality instead of the crisp fall days.


Summer of Silas

Part Three


He made me laugh.

A beautiful boy who could make me laugh.


I stared at the ceiling of the tent while Silas handed me a sparkling blunt over and over again.

We were stuck in an endless cycle of inhaling sweet smoke and laughing joyfully.

And five hours felt like ten minutes.


It was completely dark now and I was curled up, protecting myself from the cold.

The effects had mostly worn off, except for the slight tingle under my skin.

I could feel his presence beside me.

He was still smoking, and the others hadn’t come back yet.

Whatever possessed me in that moment made me turn around to him.

“Can you hold me?”

I turned back around, not waiting for his answer- but after a couple seconds I felt his hands slip around my waist and his body fit together with mine.

We were silent.

And then he was brushing his lips gently against the back of my neck, traveling to my jaw line.

I turned, knowing our lips would meet.

It was soft- comforting.

Nothing more.


His lips put me at ease.


In that moment that beautiful boy became mine.

Summer of Silas

Part Two

The remains of the magic was still stirring in my stomach, making me light headed and nauseous. Everything comes with a price I suppose, and my body had become overwhelmed.

Kind strangers stopped, giving me water, then continued down the stream of festival lights.

“I don’t want to miss the concert”, Laura said softly.

“Me too”, Maggie said slightly harsher.

I felt guilt that surpassing my own limits had become a burden on more than just myself. I’d also be lying if I said it wasn’t worth it.

“I don’t mind taking her back.”

There was no disappointment in Silas’s voice, only kindness.

We walked in silence for a while, not touching or looking at each other. He had a comfortable presence that seemed to calm me without a word being said.

Another wave of nausea swept over me and I stopped walking.

“You okay?” His hand ventured up the small of my back and before I knew it my head was buried in the chasm of his chest.

We stood there for several moments, two strangers embracing who had hardly exchanged words.

But I already knew Silas somehow.

His touch felt like it had been waiting for me to find him.

We continued on our journey back to our camp, his arm around my waist and our hands intertwined.

He started asking me questions no one bothered to ask anymore. What I wanted out of life, what I studied, where I wanted to go from here.


And by the time I saw our castle in the distance, my laughter had cured my sickness.

It’s the wine talking but…

If you’ve been in love you know that the thought of losing that person is unbearable. If you’ve lost the person you love then you know that you can feel your own heart drop, and breathing becomes a burden. Nothing else matters but trying to salvage any hope that there is left. 

I don’t know about you, but all I’ve wanted in life is to love and be loved in return. 

Then someone gives you hope. 

And takes it away. 

You learn, move on. 

But you end up losing all that hope to the ghosts of your past. 

So what’s left? 

Summer of Silas

Part One

I met a boy a few weeks after I turned nineteen. 

He reminded me of art, beautiful in the most unacceptable ways. His lips big, nose round, eyes dark, and his skin blended into the night sky. 

I had been let down countless times by tall boys with blue eyes and white smiles. They told me I was beautiful while they kissed me, making promises they couldn’t keep. 

But when I saw Silas I felt a pull at my soul. I wanted to watch him, touch him, hear the thoughts that spiraled in his head. 

He was the boy that no one noticed was beautiful. But I couldn’t take my eyes off him. 

I could feel his eyes on me too. 

Watching me as a little white crystal sizzled under my tongue. 

“What does it feel like?” 

His lips curved up slightly. 

“Kind of like magic”, he said. His voice was rough, but kind. A lisp snuck through the gap in his teeth, hardly noticeable. 

He could see the doubt in my eyes, “you’ll like it, I promise.” 

“Let’s go outside”, Laura tugged at my arm, “you’ll want to see the sun, trust me.” 

We wandered out into the land of hippies. The most care free souls the world had to offer. I wanted to belong here, wanted to let go. But I had a mind that ran with worry and couldn’t be stopped.

We climbed up her old pathfinder like a mountain, looking out at the bright colors that made up our scenery. 

She grabbed my hand, “we’re just gonna lay here. Watch the sky. Watch it change.” 

We watched for what seemed like an hour, and I saw nothing different. The sky was still blue and the trees were still green. 

I sat up, “shouldn’t I feel something by now?” 

And just as my words left my mouth I was struck by the colors. Could feel them melt into my skin. The sky seemed endless and the trees were alive.

And the world around me shifted into a place without worry. 

“Your pupils are huge!”

I faced Laura and she was looking at me like it was the first time she had seen me. 

“How do you feel?” I felt his voice behind me, warm, creeping up the back of my neck. 

“Amazing”, my voice was light, bouncing from the curve of my smile, “but very warm.”

In fact, I felt the warmest I had ever felt in my life.

His eyes looked at me with worry, but I was mesmerized by his beauty.

“She’s really sweating.. Maybe we should get her some ice”, I heard Laura’s voice like a distant echo. 

All I saw was Silas. 

And then he touched me, leading me down from the mountain I had climbed. His touch felt like I found love for the first time. 

“Sit down in the shade”, he said softly in my ear, “I’ll get you something cold.”

I ran my hands up and down my arms, fascinated by how I could feel the life running through my own body.

And then a cooling sensation swept over me. 

“That feels nice”, I murmured. 

I looked up and saw Laura, and I knew she was seeing it too; the world through my eyes. 

“It’s beautiful”, her voice escaping in bubbles that floated up to the sky. 

“I want to lay down”, I heard her say. 

I found my balance and stood up, entering our tent that was as big as a castle. 

Then the film started rolling. Everything seemed clearer, crisper, like I was watching it through a tv screen. 

I heard music in the outskirts of my mind and I knew the movie had just started. 

What I didn’t know at the time was that it would continue for much longer than the effects of the magic crystal.

Hours later we had ventured down to the festival. The only thing I felt was a slight buzzing through my body. I had experienced magic for the first time.