In Reno it's the big blue sky
In California it's the coast
She haunts my aging nights
A kind of teenage ghost

I too will pass away
Vanish with a trace
Her ****, **** voice
The beauty of her face

                    Space!

Born a self hatin' little girl with a soul so pure
Beautiful and smart-- so young, yet mature
Talented with words, but the world doesn't see
That this is the only way that I know how to be me
Broken and beaten by this world that I despise
I've learned to block it all out, I no longer open my eyes
They've been permanently shut, so now I live through what I feel
But I've cut off all emotions so life's no big deal
I'll be great one day, that's what I tell myself
I'll be great one day without any of their help
I'll be great one day and then they'll see
I'll be great one day-- And good enough for me

you came to me as a friend of a friend
but by evening we we driving 140
through a glass of honey whiskey
sharing stories
of gardens, memory
family ties and beehives

you kept
me golden and flowing
towards you
to the sea we could not see
but heard breathing

until 4am
when the moonlight broke through
the Tudor windows
the tree's shadow etched against
your skin

and then we waited
until we met again
by Harlau lake
with honey on your lips

you made empenadas
and we played a game of cards
where you learnt past tense
and I learnt more of you

we drove out of town
made out in my car
watching headlights pass by
lighting up your eyes

it was only the present
we needed then

It's hard to trust someone who always lied.
It's hard to love someone who made you cry.
It's hard to care when you want to die.
It's hard to believe when you have no pride.
It's hard to forgive when you already tried.
It's hard to be happy when there are tears in my eyes

i don’t just crave validation,
i need it.
i need it like some people need a drink in their hands,
i need it like it’s the cigarette between my lips.

it’s the air in my lungs,
my food and my drink.
it’s not just music to my ears—
it’s the only sound i hear.

i know i’m not your favorite,
not really.
but you told me i was,
three months ago.
and i wrote that in my journal.
i etched that in my heart.

i hold up my poems,
these nonsense words i call art,
and i need a compliment,
i need a hug.
so that i know i’m not just some girl,
the girl you whisper about when she’s not there.
so that i know
there’s a reason i give and give.

so that i know i’m someone’s favorite.

I fell like silence breaking,
a scream that never made it out,
the wind folding around me
like arms that never did.

Now, I wake in a room
stitched with wires and cold light,
where the air tastes of bleach
and every surface hums with life
that isn’t mine.

The machine speak in beeps
soft, exact, unfeeling.
Beep.
I’m still here.
Beep.
I failed.
Beep.
I failed.

They say the sound is good.
They say the beeping means I’m stable.
But it only reminds me
that death didn’t want me.
That earth opened its arms
and still let me go.

The noise wraps around my head
like a shroud of neon thread.
It winds through the hollow
in my chest,
settling where the fall had emptied me.

I hate its voice,
its small, insistent hope.
It has no right to be so calm
when everything inside me
is still falling.

I close my eyes,
but there’s no peace.
Just the beep,
beep,
beep,
dragging me back
from the edge I chose.

And I want to ask the silence
why it let me go.
Why it handed me back
to this world of white and wires,
to these strangers with clipped voices
and pity in their eyes.

But silence won’t speak here.
Only the machines do.

Beep.
I’m still alive.
Beep.
I’m still alive.
Beep.
God, why?

The cosmos breathes through your silken thread,
A shimmer stitched where starlight treads,
Each breath you take, a hush, a spark,
A song begun within the dark.

You walk, a lantern born of flame,
Yet hold no boast, nor cry your name;
The hush of galaxies leans in,
To hear your soul’s light stir the wind.

You are not small, though stars are grand,
You are the pulse in the sky’s own hand.
A symphony that dares to rise,
From silence, into sacred skies.

Let morning crown your brow with fire,
And let your gaze the heavens inspire,
For God in shadow, dust, and hue,
Finds voice and rhythm, here, in you.