In Me.

This city will grow on me
It gets smaller and smaller each day
Tied down by the same routine
And yet nobody asking me to stay
I miss the changing of seasons
Of reasons to live and of pace
My toes will freeze
I’m not built for this place

When You
Moved Away.

When you moved away,
I learned how painful it is to trust gravity with your flight plans
When all it is designed to do is let you down
But I am still learning
I had let you play god and fashion your promise onto my ribcage
And to this day, it’s the only bone I’ve ever broken

Where We

I bet leaves don’t have to die to change colors anymore
I bet the grass is never greener on the other side
Because everybody there stopped allowing the world to set up their sprinkler systems
I bet love blooms more often
Because risks don’t wait until the springtime to be taken
Because the word “consequences” lost all its negative connotations


Waiting is a strange feeling. It’s like a sense of deep longing for a train to arrive, and a constant questioning of whether or not the train actually exists. Waiting for you is really just me fearing I’ll never have the opportunity to miss you—not that I want to miss you. It’s just that missing you implies that you exist and we’ve met and we’ve experienced something that’s worth missing. Regardless of whether or not you’ll return, it means that, at some point, you did arrive.

February 24

I think if you took hold of all the scraps and stickers and sadness that occupied my storage of a mind and glued them all together, you’d find the place I’ve always wanted to go, the person I’ve always wanted to be, and the purpose that I always seem to realize too late. I look through a telescope into that space that I’ve created and see a galaxy of what I could have done better. I wish I had invested in space exploration sooner.

to Us.

Thank you for attending the release party of my thoughts! Honestly, every inch of me wishes that this was a face-to-face conversation, that we could swap stories and tea as our autobiographies intertwine. Better yet, we could trek through a forest and look for the silence, so that when we shout out the millions of questions we have about the universe, nobody but the stars can judge our confusion. And don’t worry about any cops tearing down our celebration; nobody is ever too young to be served the watered-down thoughts of a university student. Because that’s all this space really is, a place to fill with my thoughts.


Will not overcome
Deeply rooted in love
A tree whose seeds
I grasp in my hands
And my heart
I will blow them
In the wind
And sow them
In the skin of
every single one of my conversations
So that everyone will see
Just how
You have been
To me

April 13

Half of the population of all my responsibilities was killed in the wake of COVID-19. My campus, my sports, my jobs, my leadership roles, and my plans are buried in its tracks. But in the death of my to-do list, my time was reborn. I can now replay the moments I wish I had wholeheartedly participated in; the memories that I carved on my ring finger while actively having an affair with my anxiety. It’s a beautiful thing, time.

My Book.

When I’ve left these walls, I’ll purchase a fancy mirror and a tub
So at least I know this water’s mine when I’m tossed amidst the flood
But this water isn’t in my control, is it? And perhaps I’m not enough
But when this reality is done sinking in
And I’m finally at peace to rest in my own skin
I can look in my mirror and see how far I’ve come


My friend, God is real. And His existence is beautiful. See, I don’t think you’re trying to find Him; I think you’re trying to make sense of His beauty. Your faith is the frame that rests upon your ears and the bridge of your nose—so go study math. Let it be the lens through which you can see Him more clearly. But even if you don’t, remember that He is still in the room.


Yes, I think I’m in love with him
And maybe one day
His life will take a turn
He’ll turn on his signal
Look at his rear view mirror And see me,
the girl who sat behind him,
And regret what he’d missed out on all this time

July 5

i am counting down the days til my feet touch
the soil of another culture
like toes on a shoreline
immersed in the waves
knowing full well that the ocean cannot
wash away the people
the places
the duties
the memories
i am running from.

High School
Best Friends.

I hope you tear down every dichotomy that has ever stood between skin and success
I hope you don’t settle for anything less
Than what’s best for you
I hope you never lower your standards
Because trust me
You’re far too tall to sell yourself short
For a temporary high
And if someone tells you otherwise
Know that you can always count on me
To fight them
Because unlike them,
I have nothing to lose
Except you, I guess


Don’t think it makes much sense
To know I’m being seen
Yet feel like weightlessly I’m floating in an in-between
I swear the fire’s out
The smell’s a little strong
I know the residue of slowly healing can’t be wrong


I know
I can’t fall uphill
Even if I believe in the stillness
Of truth that exists when I close my eyes
Do I always fall for a boy who’s way out of my league
Who’s being polished on a pedestal that’s far too high for me to reach
And for every beat my heart skips
I break another law of gravity
As I fall uphill
For a boy who won’t take the time
To look over the edge

February 17

What do I do when I tell him to leave and I believe
You’ll show up and you do
—But you just exist there
On top
Telling me to stop
And breathe
And completely be