she sat and listened to strings because it sounds like mourning, like grief, like unconquerable sorrow pouring and pouring. a knife in the abdomen. she wore that baby blue dress, bird boned, and she'd sit in the windowsill nurturing knees to her chest and watch the way rain married itself upon the glass, watched how it grew a dazed smoke each time her breath crossed it. how strangely, how intimately she would live in moments like this. you don't touch her; she'd startle. she doesn't want to be moved. macabre, maiden to the night, wearing its glow like a lustful silk. this is the company she wants: weeping moon, pouting sky. it is not you.

Write me a story.

People have been asking me if I still write or why I don't write anymore. I didn’t exactly “stop” writing, I’m just having some difficulty finding the words I need to express myself poetically. I try everyday to write a poem, or even just a snippet, but the words just won’t seem to take over. 

Honestly, I am really just lost in a storm of self-doubt. I think it has a lot to do with the stress of college and how inadequate it’s made me feel. The feeling of inadequacy has had an impact on everything I do, but my self-assurance and creativity is suffering the most. 

I feel like this is going to be a hard demon to tackle. Like my favourite poet said, “The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”

I miss it. 

December

1st of December.
 The chilly wind kisses the back of my neck. 
I’m left exposed to the cold without the warmth of my scarf.
 I slightly shiver and my body shakes a little because all warmth has been replaced with the cold.
 Can’t count how many times I saw my breath when I exhaled. Maybe it’s strange on cold days like this,
 I just want to walk in the woods and get lost.
 Hearing dead leaves crunch under my leather boots. 
A breeze slithering in between the trees. 
Making the leaves dance a little.
 I like to see the sky filled up with grey cotton balls, giving off a melancholic atmosphere.
 Rather than the warm sunshine spilling out, radiating a lighter atmosphere.
 Maybe i just like winter because that’s when everything comes to an end.
 Because once that clock strikes midnight after December 31st,
 It’s a new beginning. A new start.
Maybe that’s what I need. 
To let go of the heavy burden that’s been resting on my heart and my shoulders.

Black & White

the photos of black and white couples saying goodbye were always your favorites 

one person hanging out of a train window 

to kiss the other with a fierceness 

with color all it's own

but I have always been the person to focus on the moment after

as the person waves goodbye 

and the other person wonders 

when they will feel color again... 

Matthew

Matthew is everything that is good in this world;

He is everything I love about people.

He is the playfulness of a child on summer’s day;

He is the exhilarating sound of a splash in a crisp pool

As the August heat warms youthful spirits.

He is the wind blowing through the car

When the windows are all rolled down

While everyone’s favorite hit is sung along to by good old friends.

He is the entertainment you used to get seeing which raindrop

Would win the race to the bottom of the window first.

He is the carefree spirit that would get you to go running out into the pouring rain;

Dancing in it, not caring how wet you were getting or how much mud

Was getting on your shoes.

He is the warmth of the indoors afterwards,

When mom would decide to light the fireplace

As you sipped hot cocoa with your little brother.

He is the feeling of putting on clothes fresh out of the dryer.

He is the scent of cinnamon rolls in the morning waking you up

After spending a night at your grandmothers house.

He is the laughter you share at sleepovers with your best friend at 3 AM.

He is the goosebumps you get listening to an amazing song

And having every lyric resonate with you.

He is the feeling of relief you get after a good cry,

The kind where you can hardly breathe and snot is coming out your nose,

But it all feels so much better when its over.

He’s everything that’s good in this world.

He’s only human, but to me he’s the embodiment of love, of hope, of strength.

He is my boyfriend, my best friend, 

The one who I can tell anything to;

The one I promise to love every day, not because of how he makes me feel,

But because of who he is:

My Matthew, forever and always.

"don't tell me I am pretty or thin or sweet or good until you have crawled inside my skin and felt the depths and shallows of me. 

only I know who I am.

I live inside myslef and it's a rotting cage."

Take me there

He told me, "I can take you anywhere."

               Take
                       me 
                             to 
                                the 
                                     bottom
                                                    of your coffee mug, 

                                                           smother me in the leftover espresso cupping it’s end. 

                                 Fold me in the pocket of your rain coat and pull me in to your ribs, 

                      let me sleep within the beds between them. 

Take me beneath the wood washed floors of your kitchen where you stumble each night, 

                                
                               let me kiss your ankles while you devour sweets. 

Tuck me under your tongue and pronounce me carefully.

                      I am fingers through your hair and bathwater to your skin,  

the sweets dripping from your mouth and crawling back in each night.

n.w