HELLO!
This is where my innermost thoughts come to rest. my insecurties, my vulnerabilities, my love. Some of these poems have already found their shape and voice, others are still in the process of forming. I hope you enjoy (˶˃𐃷˂˶)!!!
p.s. if you hover over the poem titles, you might find a little surprise... O.o
The Choice is YoursWritten as a kind of riddle to myself. About a moment where i knew what the right thing to do was, but kept finding reasons not to do it. I'm often plauged by self-doubt and hesitation. When there are too many choices and decsions to make, it can feel extremely overwhelming. When alll of that is taken away from me, what is my answer?
to open up the locket, you must step into the truth. if lies are what you're living, the only way out is proof. the clock is slowly ticking, the floors are rotting through.
when nothing is left to chance, what will you choose to do?
Crossword PuzzleThis is a fun one! I wrote this on christmas eve eve after i saw a post of (what they claimed to be) the first crossword puzzle ever. I was really inspired by how poetic some of the clues sounded. I was also inspired by the idea of using a puzzle to convey a message that might be difficult to express directly. the answers are in there if you look.
December 23, 2025
an animal of prey at the close of a day.
wings tilt to the light and the sky gives way.
mud on the talon, a river held still,
evening taught slowly to bend to its will.
opposed to less? the answer is more.
what puzzle is this, what opens the door?
a written acknowledgement folded in air,
signed by a bird without knowing its care.
a fibre of palm threaded into wing,
carried like something too fragile to sing.
what we all should be? briefly awake.
a daydream learning the shape it can take.
the plural of is moves quietly through,
turning a single into something like me and you.
found on the seashore, salt on the skin.
an aromatic plant growing inward, within.
iron remembers, wood learns to bend and let go.
a boy discovers where choices can end and where he can grow.
to cultivate means to listen and wait.
to govern is knowing what not to create.
one becomes many, night loosens its hold.
light leaves the dark without asking for gold.
this puzzle is fun, but not without cost.
it asks what is kept, and what can be lost.
nothing's left to chance, only what fits.
the answer arrives, then quietly sits.
Friendship is MagicAs you can tell by the title lol, this is about the power of friendship! I've always been someone who's found it hard to open up and be vulnerable with others through speaking. Ive always been a person who thrives on action, but through my connection with friends, I've learned that true strength in friendship doesn't just come from what you can do for others, but from being able to be vulnerable and authentic.
January 8, 2026
from this tree i'll grow my own branches of fruit,
not sweet for the taking, but strong in their proof.
let us bloom into one flower of youth, a labor of love
clear enough to see through.
lend a hand on the land that i've made for you,
to resist the doubt that is beating me through,
that old rhythm that says i should leave or i'll lose.
anything that i do, know that it is for you, i confess
to this truth, i'll move mountains for you, not to
carry your weight, but to walk where you choose.
this isn't a romance, it's a tempo of trust,
it's knowing when silence counts and when sound is a must.
InexorableThis poem is about living in the tension between desire/obsession and certainty. Wondering whether a connection is real or imagined, and deciding that risking the truth is better than being consumed by the weight of not knowing.
December 31, 2025
i make a wish, i make a witch of myself
my tongue trips over the truth of it
the weight i feel is the weight of myself
pushing down to get through to it
and lately i linger in the after of saying
the almost's, the not yet's, the what if's, and maybe's
and i wonder if you feel the pull of it too
this pressure, this tether, this thread that connects me to you
or if i'm just pacing inside my own echo
mistaking the sound of myself for a lead
i'd rather the truth come out tangled and bitten
than sit here dissolving inside me
if it cuts on the way up, if it stutters and slips
at least it arrived with the mark of its weight
so i hold to the wanting, let it bend and consume
and i'll keep pushing through it, even if all i reach
is the shape of myself holding on to what she once knew
Getting OlderIt's about realizing that maturity is not the end of becoming, and finding hope in the fact that wonder, imagination, and transformation can still break you wide open long after you thought you were supposed to have everything figured out.
I'll always be figuring things out, and that's okay.
October 31, 2025
it's an odd thing, getting older
i thought by now i'd know the roads,
have learned the way to carry weight,
have shed my unbecoming loads.
but here i am, still mid-becoming,
still waiting for the lines to clear,
still certain something just around the
corner will finally make it clear.
...
but still i listen underwater
for a word, a thread, a dawn, a daughter
then comes soft
a tiny bird of blade and gleam
half born from some forgotten dream
beats its wings against the dark
cutting through my swollen heart
i hold it close; it splits me wide
and childhood light pours back inside
34 or not, i see
the sun still writes its name on me
and though my wounds are far from pure
i know the cause i'm fighting for
a stranger sent, a daughter sworn
water blessed and fountain born
ExothermicExothermic is a chemistry term for a reaction that releases heat. I was friends with this girl & every time we hung out it would end with us making out in her car. We never quite made it past that point.
combusting and bursting, i'm burning with love
combusting and bursting, i'm burning with love
it's hot when you hold me, can we keep this up?
A Poem for DrewDrew is me. I wrote this trying to figure out where I ended and someone else's version of me began. I think I have a blog post up about it.
March 8, 2025
splintered mirror, half of my reflection
the light is bending sharp against the floor
my body's guessing, short circuiting, my lines
are fraying all along the edges
i can't keep up with the noise of me's voice
my voice is omnipresent, suppressing all the bigger
things, my mind just can't accept it
if i let the night forgive me will i step into the truth?
if i get a brand new body will my heart beat black or blue?
drew walks just like an echo, body funny, pace
is strange, he's the ghost of something softer
pressed into my every vein, if i call him in the
morning will he answer back in me? if i carve
out all the difference is there anything to keep?
Hollow BeastThis is about anger that doesn't have anywhere to go. About feeling full of rage that isn't entirely my own. Carrying the sorrows, injustices, and unresolved wounds of the generations before me.
November 14, 2025
there's a hollow carved into my chest,
and every night it refuses rest.
the wind slips in and makes a sound,
a trembling note the dark unwound.
and the shadows rising from my roots
are memories dressed in rage and soot.
there's no stillness i can wrest
from the hollow carved into my chest.
there's an animal pacing in my blood,
born of every forgotten flood.
it carries names i tried to lose,
old wounds the body didn't choose.
into the night its heartbeat creeps,
down where all my buried secrets sleep,
but it cannot take back the years
or silence what the wind still hears.
there's a clearing waiting in my dreams,
beyond the snarl of memory's seams.
and in the dark i watch it gleam,
a place that feels like something clean.
beyond the rage that shaped my bark,
beyond the river and the stark
reminder of what i've outgrown,
there's a path that hums with what's unknown.
and someday, when the wind blows right,
when sorrow thins and branches lighten,
i think the hollow inside of me
will sing me where i'm meant to be.
RoselynI wrote this for my dear friend roselyn, she's the most empathetic person I know & the world doesn't always appreciate people like her. She has a remarkable ability to see the good in others, even when they don't always deserve her generosity. The poem began with the phrase "Roselyn, a rose in wind," which I loved for its sound, but it grew into a reflection on the tenderness, resilience, and vulnerability that make her who she is. I've written longer versions of this poem but there is nothing quite like this orginal draft.
October 1, 2025
roselyn, a rose in wind, thorn tucked in skin,
a pluck and you bleed through. a softened truth
your name already sings, a petal and a prayer but
no wind is whistling and no one is listening.
Always and ForeverFor someone I still carry in my heart. The heatwave song was playing and I just started writing and couldn't stop.
May 22, 2025
do flowers bloom in your dreams too?
is the forest lit in hues of green and blue?
i can't shake the feeling that you feel the same
your voice's still ringing, calling out my name.
i'll take you home, back where we're meant to be,
sitting on front porches drinking day old tea
and summer's here, july is creeping in and your
birthday's waiting on me, quiet questioning.
everything reminds me of what we were, i can't
escape it through music, i can't escape it through word.
i still sing our song, the one you played for me, back when
it was a little harder for me to fall asleep.
"always and forever, each moment with you is just like
a dream come true. and i know tomorrow will still be the same
'cause i've got a life of love that won't ever change."
Ballad of a SongbirdSimply put, it's about trying to be enough for someone who doesn't deserve it.
March 23, 2025
i land on parts
of you i know
branches thin
they bend, they go
i pick apart
the things you hide
tell myself
that it's just fine
puff my chest
again, again
maybe that's
what makes a man
i'd sing soft
if you'd come near
quiet songs
you'll never hear
second best
it fits just right
little bird
in too big sky
if i fall
tonight mid-flight
lungs give out
my chest is tight
would you come
or would you stay
window closed
and look away
i'd sing soft
if you'd come near
quiet songs
you'll never hear
second best
i wear it proud
little bird
still singing loud
IntrovertNot really a poem, more of a feeling i wrote down, about craving distance from....everything
i'm very fond of the idea of being away from people, immense change comes with immense upheaval — the digging through and throwing out of things you thought you've rid of already. like the lone sock hidden in your dresser drawer, its other half lost to the ether.
Return To SenderThis one is still too fresh of a wound for me to feel comfortable sharing the full details of it. But i think if you read between the lines you'll make a connection.
March 10, 2026
can we sit here a minute
i know you are busy with the careful assembling of your life
the bright equipment of it, the schedules, and small engines that keep it moving
i watch from the polite distance that forms between people
when one of them begins to accelerate
for a long time i believed that attention was a kind of structure
that if i collected enough small things remembered enough details
the way i stored your stories the way some people store receipts
a room might eventually appear where we both could stand
it never occurred to me that a room can exist for one person only
most of the work of friendship, i learned, happens quietly
the way someone holds a place in their mind for you
while the day moves forward without asking
i held many such places for you
did i tell you how easily your voice organized my afternoons
how a message from you could rearrange the furniture of a day
until everything faced the door
i am trying not to say this like a grievance
i am trying to say it the way you might describe gravity
something that simply occurs
when two things share the same air for long enough
still, there are small evidences i keep noticing
like how certain conversations always begin with me reaching
how certain silences remain excatly where i left them
as if the ground between us learned my weight more carefully than yours
and i suppose this is what i mean when i think about friendship
the quieter math of it, how one person keeps returning to a place
that the other only passes through
Untitled I think originally this was a one off stanza that was supposed to be part of a larger work, but it didn't flow properly. So now it lives here.
no way to bring back what is lost
so i hum until my voice goes soft
to calm the upset of my heart
i'll give the day a brand new start
but in the troves of my own home
in valleys unbeknownst to most
there's an animal who's fast asleep
he's where all my deepest sorrows seep