to touch

  each & every

  part of

  me.

  - he could touch me across highways.

  somehow,

  my soul

  knew

  your soul

  before we

  ever

  met.

  - it was like coming home after a long, long day.

  he calls me

  gorgeous.

  he reads

  all my

  favorite books

  & then

  asks for

  more.

  he knows

  exactly how

  to make my coffee.

  (“light & sweet,

  just like you,” i

  always joke to him.)

  he asks me

  how i am doing

  every single day

  & he

  genuinely

  cares to hear

  the answer.

  best of all,

  i know he will

  still love me

  when he

  wakes up

  tomorrow morning.

  - 5 things you made me think weren’t possible.

  i say to him,

  “we will always

  have our octobers.

  - even when everything else fades.”

  he

  opened me up

  like a book

  & poured the

  poetry

  back into

  me.

  - my personal pen & paper.

  a list of red things:

  I. his hair.

  II. our lips.

  III. my nails.

  IV. our breath.

  V. my sheets.

  - worth the wait.

  flowers

  grow

  wherever

  his

  fingertips

  graze

  me.

  - my sun & rain.

  t

  h

  i

  s

  :

  you & me,

  a fading october afternoon,

  the biting chill filling up the air,

  noses turning rosy at the tips,

  drinking our too-sweet coffees,

  pinkies hooked together,

  forgetting everything

  & everyone else.

  this, this,

  this.

  - 10/13/12

  he is

  even better

  than books.

  - fiction has nothing on you.

  i am so glad

  we were born

  during the same

  lifetime.

  - i may not believe in fate, but i believe in you.

  his smile makes my bones ache.

  - a pain i welcome.

  when i see

  your light pieces

  with

  my dark pieces,

  i begin to

  understand why

  they say

  opposites attract.

  - chiaroscuro.

  i am so sorry

  for all the times

  the

  darkling

  dragon

  demon

  living inside

  my darkest

  corners

  came

  roaring out,

  flames ready,

  hell-bent

  on

  extinguishing

  all the light

  in you.

  - please don’t leave.

  the constellation

  of stars

  s c a t t e r e d

  across his

  back

  is the

  map

  that guides me

  home

  each time

  i find myself

  lost.

  - you are my home.

  he

  did not

  teach me

  how

  to love

  myself,

  but he

  was

  the bridge

  that

  helped me

  get

  here.

  - i thank the universe every day for you.

  he walked

  me down

  the bridge

  marked with

  our names,

  got down

  on one

  knee,

  & opened up

  my favorite

  book—

  the one

  with the

  beautiful princess

  & her own

  beloved book

  on the cover.

  inside,

  i found

  a tiny,

  perfect,

  amethyst

  hope.

  - ‘t will forever keep.

  i

  let myself

  know

  that my life

  doesn’t

  have to be over

  just because

  theirs are

  & i went

  ahead

  & painted

  the sun

  back into

  my sky.

  - i am allowed to live my life.

  “what are you

  going to do with your

  english degree?”

  “i plan to

  crack open

  the skulls of the

  masses

  & plant

  a colorful

  garden

  in every

  brain.”

  “i am

  going to lace

  together

  a necklace

  of words

  for everyone

  i meet.”

  “for once

  in my life

  i am going

  to make sure

  someone finally

  hears

  me.”

  “i don’t know.”

  - & it’s okay not to know.

  fiction:

  the ocean

  i dive

  headfirst

  into

  when i

  can

  no longer

  breathe

  in

  reality.

  - a mermaid escapist II.

  i would like to eat

  one meal

  without feeling

  ashamed.

  - healing is ongoing.

  all of the oceans

  & galaxies

  did not

  conspire together to

  create me

  just so i could

  reproduce for

  you.

  - startling fact #1.

  if i ever

  have a

  daughter,

  the first

  thing

  i will

  teach her

  to love

  will be

  the word

  “no”

  &

  i will

  not

  let her feel

  guilty

  for using

  it.

  - “no” is short for “fuck off.”

  i am

  a tigress

  who has earned

  her softer-than-velvet

  stripes.

  - an ode to my stretchmarks.

  i am

  a lioness

  who is no longer

  afraid to let the world

  hear her

  roar.

  - an ode to me.

  when i die,

  do not

  waste

  a minute

  mourning me.

  i may go,

  but i will

  leave behind

  all my

  thousand & one

  lives.

  - a bookmad girl never dies.

  i

  hope


  you

  can find it

  in your

  heart

  to be

  proud

  of the

  woman

  i have become

  in spite

  of

  you.

  - still hoping for sugar instead of salt.

  i will

  take the

  blood-tipped

  thorns

  they

  stuck

  in you

  &

  from

  them

  i will

  teach you

  how to

  weave

  together

  the crown

  you

  deserve.

  - you are stronger than i will ever know.

  IV. you

  raid your library.

  read everything

  you can get your

  hands on

  & then

  some.

  go on,

  collect words

  & polish them up

  until they shine

  like starlight

  in your

  palm.

  make words

  your finest weapons—

  a gold-hilted sword

  to cut your

  enemies

  d

  o

  w

  n.

  - a survival plan of sorts.

  trees

  have words

  the wind

  cannot carry,

  so we must

  write

  on them

  their stories

  until there are

  none left

  for them

  to tell.

  - write the story.

  write the story.

  push

  your hands

  into the dirtiest

  parts of yourself.

  take the

  rot & decay

  & turn it into

  nourishment & life.

  water it

  & sing to it

  & show it

  sunlight.

  grow a beautiful garden

  from your aching

  & teach yourself

  how to thrive from it.

  write your story.

  - the sign you’ve been waiting for.

  fill in the blank:

  a) poetry is ____________.

  - anything you want it to be.

  when you live

  in new york

  or new jersey

  it is almost

  a rite of passage

  when someone

  jumps in front

  of your train.

  the first thought

  is always,

  “i’m going to be

  late for work.”

  it is never,

  “what a tragedy

  she felt that

  there was no

  other way out.”

  but it is.

  it is a fucking

  tragedy

  when

  the world

  does not stop

  for you

  even when

  you give it

  every last

  drop of your

  blood.

  - i never learned your name, but you mattered to me.

  there is not

  enough

  rain water

  in all

  the skies

  to rinse

  the

  innocent

  blood

  from

  your hands.

  - their lives will always matter.

  a

  world

  where all

  human beings

  are taken care of

  shouldn’t be called

  a “revolutionary”

  way of life

  & yet

  it is.

  - burn.

  if you

  don’t want to

  end up in

  someone else’s

  poem,

  then maybe

  you should

  start

  treating

  people

  better

  for

  a

  change.

  - an unapologetic poet.

  emily—

  i often

  find myself

  wondering

  if you are still

  out there

  with lanterns,

  looking for

  yourself.

  is sylvia there

  with you,

  guiding

  the way by

  the old

  brag

  of her

  beating

  heart?

  does

  virginia

  have

  a room

  all her own?

  & what about

  harriet

  & anne

  & harper?

  does

  a woman

  ever

  find

  her peace?

  is death

  our only

  feather-covered

  hope?

  - i’ll be there with matches.

  your hips

  will try to burst

  through your skin.

  your thighs

  will try to grow together

  like a mermaid’s tail.

  a soft garden

  will try to sprout

  on your legs.

  (& between your legs,

  on your upper lip,

  on your armpits, etc.)

  no, you are

  not just here to be

  sexy for him.

  the world begins

  & ends

  when you say so.

  - what they don’t want you to know.

  food

  is

  not

  the

  enemy.

  - society is.

  i’m

  pretty sure

  you have

  s t a r d u s t

  running

  through

  those

  v e i n s.

  - women are some kind of magic.

  you

  are not

  obligated

  to have

  children

  just because

  your body

  has that

  capability.

  you

  are so

  so

  so

  much more

  than the

  possibility

  of

  children.

  you give

  birth

  to oceans

  every

  single

  day.

  - your friendly neighborhood man-hater & child-eater.

  be a

  mermaid.

  be a mermaid

  who doesn’t settle

  for making a

  small splash.

  be a

  mermaid

  who doesn’t

  stop until she makes

  tidal waves.

  be a

  mermaid

  who knows to

  stop before

  she devastates

  the world with her

  tsunamis.

  - don’t allow the world to take your kindness.

  you

  did

  absolutely

  nothing

  to

  deserve

  it.

  - fuck rape culture.

  repeat after me:

  you owe

  no one

  your

  forgiveness.

  - except maybe yourself.

  the love

  some girls

  have for

 
other girls

  is

  so gentle

  & so soft

  & so fucking

  beautiful,

  &

  these girls

  deserve

  to have

  better stories

  than the ones

  where they

  are murdered

  because they love

  with too much

  of their

  hearts.

  - love is never a weakness.

  the only thing

  required

  to be

  a woman

  is to

  identify

  as one.

  - period, end of story.

  your happiness

  comes before

  anyone else’s

  happiness.

  - the real meaning of “self-respect.”

  just because

  they don’t

  hit you

  doesn’t mean it

  isn’t

  abuse.

  wouldn’t you

  think it

  a crime

  to look up

  at

  the night sky

  & tell

  the stars

  that they have

  no sparkle?

  guess what?