3:37 am

birds sing early in the morning, when the moon is out
and the taste of my mistakes is still fresh
but you call and you tell me that you love me
and that you tried to write another poem for me
but you lost your words
i put 'i'm fine, i'm fine' on repeat
and the words crash against the receiver.

new

you look at me with those damn blue eyes of yours
and you tuck in the crook of your arm, like a lover
and if you had planted a seed with each kiss you offered me
my body would be a garden untouched by winters
that grows and grows and dissolves into utter lightness

i've hated loving because i'd lose myself in it
but it isn't love until you fall and find yourself in it

nothing

mouthful by mouthful, the honey makes your head spin
with every drop swallowed, the world swims away,
spins away and you're left with nothing but white noise
and you keep wondering who's going to lead you home
and they keep wondering why you're sitting alone on the couch
and you keep wondering why the lights look so pretty
and they keep wondering whether you're here by mistake
and you keep wondering whether they notice you
and they keep wondering whether you notice them

secrets

a ghost watches you from the bathroom counter

watches you fill the tub 

watches you play with the buttons on your shirt

watches the water swallow you whole

'how curious', the ghost thinks

as your kneecaps, like apples,

ripen underneath the murky waves.

lucky

it's been nice.

the first hours of the morning greet with wild city lights.

my forehead is leaning against the cool glass of a taxi window.

i smile to myself and think about winter-girl, and unicorn-boy

and how they've enticed me more than anyone

simply because they never let me have them for myself.

congratulations. 

and then i think about how lucky i am

because i don't say 'i love you' to anyone before going to sleep

because there are no obligations

only art museums to visit and tea to drink. 

wake up

i have no words to write today.
hands have closed around my neck, and i haven't got a care.
i'm in a better place now.

i want to cry because of the sleepless nights and lucid dreams and cheap motels that await me.
i want to cry because i'm no longer drowning.
i want to cry of wanderlust and ecstasy and illumination.
i want to cry because of paris and evan and summer.

it's like i'm waking up from a good night's sleep.

various shades of white

i am convinced that the world around us is formed of several layers of reality.

one of them is solely built of lies.

every day we all add a brick to the wall

'dinner was delicious.'

'you look great in that dress.'

'yes, that felt good.'

'it's okay.'

'yes, i'm happy.'
'of course i love you.'

soon, the walls around myself will become a home.

it'll be the prettiest home, the bricks will be various shades of white.

see how lovely everything becomes when you coat it with lies?

it doesn't matter that who gets trapped inside

everyone outside wins, everyone outside is satisfied.

'what a lovely home you've built.'

for the birds

a few heartbeats ago, i could have never imagined being who i am today.

i was a broken little girl.

i poured salty tears into wounds that couldn't seem to heal.

it's funny how a person can grow, grow, grow.

it must be all the rain.

it has been raining every day since may turned to june.

and i can't imagine being in a better place.

dear friend, open your window and take the deepest breath

promise me that today, you are going to stop pretending to be someone you're not

instead, you are going to let your soul roam free 

'till it comes home heaving under the weight of the beautiful sights that it has seen.