Some mornings while I’m making breakfast I look at the couch and imagine you, still sitting there, beaming at me, in your sweatpants and your glasses and your hair tied up. A wave of peace rushes through me. There is some early morning television running in the background but neither of us is really aware of what it’s advertising. “What would you like?” I ask. You smile brightly, serene, as you quietly get up and walk toward the kitchen and wrap your arms around me. I rest my chin on the top of your head and shut my eyes, taking slow, deep breaths, savoring the moment and the scent of your shampoo.

And then the toaster pops and my eyes open and the couch has been moved and the TV is off and the entire kitchen smells like charred bread and I butter your toast and then throw it away.


"I wrote your name a thousand times and burned it all at once" - an exercise in purging (2014)
another assignment for my creative writing class
prompt: write a free verse poem incorporating the phrase “chain-link fence”

my creative writing class was assigned to write a quick free-verse poem and I was annoyed with this girl in class who won’t ever shutup so I wrote mine about her

You don’t love me! If you do at all, it’s not more than appreciation. You don’t understand! You don’t understand that I see you in my dreams every night, if I can even get to sleep! You don’t understand that I cannot think of anything softer than the skin on the back of your neck! You don’t understand that I’ve exhausted notebooks and pens and my entire vocabulary trying to put you into words! You don’t understand that every poem and every book I read is about you! Every song is about you! Everything I do is about you and I can’t take it any more! You need to know that nobody will ever love you as much as I do right now. Let them try! God, I hope they try. I hope someone comes close. I hope he wakes up feeling like a prince each morning, just to have you at his side. I hope he appreciates you. I hope he sees you for what you are. I hope he wonders how men long-dead could transcend centuries to write about a woman like you. I hope he sees the constellations in your eyes and I hope he hears the tide in your voice and I hope he feels the warmth of the sun bursting from your kiss. I hope he knows just how lucky he is, because god, did I take it for granted. I am sorry. I love you.


the skeletons of my cigarettes, and the
skeletons of the trees
and the skeletons of my poems
and the skeleton in me;

and the dead skin flaking from
each of them.

she lingered in my life for months after she’d
left, in the form of 
lost lingerie behind dressers and bookshelves,
and familiar perfumes in department stores,
and the taste of flesh that wasn’t hers,
and all her
goddamned pet names
in the dictionary of my phone.


Lil self doodle ft. my favorite ao-oa line