reposting a found poem from back in the day. dare i say, there are some choice lines underneath the angst...

one year ago you were living in a saltwater room

fresh off the plane (for you had just been dragged 16 hours across the arctic circle)

before your bags arrived you...

what a shame that you chose to walk away from witnessing me in my most beautiful season. i am blooming furiously even as the sorbet-streaked evening descends and it is glorious.

by the third night, the lava of her sadness had crystallized into rock hard anger. it formed a rugged but firm path leading to the inevitable conclusion that she’d been forsaken. while her mind had found relative stillness, the questions kept pouring from her soul. whe...

that elixir of green energy, your pastel colour belying a thousand bolts of lightning. you are so artfully whole, so evenly dispersed, it seems that nothing could unsettle you. but left to your own devices, time will disarticulate every particle of your being until you...

it’s important to celebrate the small victories:

the first time you wear heels without wincing

six months after spraining your ankle

booking a spontaneous solo getaway

discovering a sick trip-hop playlist on spotify

successfully leading your first software demo

keeping a suc...

turning off the giant fan inside my head and allowing my thoughts to mercifully settle.

“you know dark days/you know hard times”

-“nice for what” by drake

and indeed i have

there have been days where i’ve been

so full of poison

everything i touched ended

up withering before my eyes

i have spent weeks clothed in grey

a fog that doesn’t lift even when

pierced by uny...

in no particular order…

10. having to watch the fucking superbowl

9. your antipathy for making reservations because it’s “too big of a commitment”

8. dating someone who’s married to their job

7. your fondness for conspiracy theories

6. being forced to eat sweetgreen on the...

you made a game of dangling me off the edge of your lap as i sat facing you, my back arching wildly towards the ground. “i’m not gonna let you fall,” you invariably said when i inevitably protested. i didn’t believe you then and scarcely believe it now, but you kept yo...

to bruise is to break internally

in a rainbow of trauma

the kind of stagnant hurt

that takes time to absorb

yet to bruise is also to release

a dizzying fragrance

so redolent

of citrus and sunshine

that despite the tearing

you cannot help

but be transported

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