Human as Architecture

There was a place inside my chest
where I was keeping nostalgia
for memories that never happened to me.
When the sadness of it hit me,
I bit off more than I could chew,
and I swallowed,
Hoping it would fill that space

There was a room inside my body
where it didn't hurt so much to feel.
I tried to stay there until the walls started talking
They said, "you are taking the easy way out"

I sometimes wonder
if I'll ever stop feeling like
I'm still growing into my own body
If my past will ever become linear
And if that would make it feel more real

I keep the lens on my memories soft,
so they don't swallow me
I keep my heart soft,
so it doesn't eat me alive
I'm building architecture within myself,
Walls that breathe my own name

Something for the Summer

I don't always remember

what it's like to be held

in arms that are not my own

But this is not a message of

loneliness

If I wanted to send ships

full of feelings

to your doorstep

I know that I could

So I don't

I am rediscovering a space

of warm pavement

where I don't cry

when I hear certain songs

I've been waiting to pull this from myself

I have grown

upward,

outward

Now I move to grow

inward

Doused in misguided optimism

Finding a space of comfort

existing as the heart

that beats inside of

the machine I was taught to fear

Where You Were // Where You Are // Where I Am

I let my body

speak stories

and hope that you are listening

I was looking for someone

like you

I like to let

white noise

run under my sides

and fill my hands heavy

until the world is 

no longer loud

Because I was searching

for a fragility

to match mine,

wondering where

in your body

you store my words

and what “forever”

does to your heart

when you told me

Thank you

For pulling from me

pieces of myself

I'd kept so hidden

I forgot they were even there  

Hella Normal Girl

Hella normal girl

They say I got maps

running under my skin

That's why my pulse

sounds the same

as my footsteps

That's why when

you press your ear to my chest

you'll hear the rustle

of every tree I've ever climbed

He said,

“Let me see

Let me see the marks

where you etched

love notes to yourself

to your lovers

to me

Let me feel the way

you hold yourself

when you know

you're doing okay”

I'm trying to find magic

in the breath of

my words

I'm trying to find

the breadcrumb trails

I left for myself

I'm trying to find myself home

They wanna be here for

my breakdown

They wanna see if

the stories are true

They wanna watch me

unstitch myself,

find my own way,

and sew me back up

so they can say

they did it too  

Circles, Cycles, Waves, and Wires

Our feelings are

cyclical

They swim upstream

pumping blood

into our arms

and our hearts

You can say their names out loud

I promise I won’t laugh

We were both born

sacred and scared

Afraid to step into the sun

and learn to walk on land

Our emotions

evaporate

when we want to not worry

They form clouds

in our chests

next to where we keep

our secrets

They pour down

to form Rivers

Lakes

Puddles

where we can swim

Circling around each other

Just like you always imagined

The importance of vulnerability

My anxiety looks and feels

the same as my fathers

We’ve never talked about it

but I can recognize it

in the way my mother talks

about the nights he stays awake in bed,

his heart heavy from giving so much away

I’m working on trying

to create with my hands

and love with my heart

Every so often,

I find myself doing the opposite

My mother cried

the day that she broke her favorite mug

I am slowly learning how to be okay

being fragile like this

I am slowly learning how to be okay 

with my own softness, 

to be okay with my own strengths 

wolfboy.

Wrapped up in the idea

that we could be lonely together,

I drew pictures of us

howling at the moon,

our chests open to its glow.

At night I’d trace my fingers

along the softest parts of your belly

trying to get our shivers to fall in sync

But I was a sheep trying to wear your hide

I stopped leaving my door unlocked

And I put the lamp back on the shelf

I expect you’ve done the same

These nights I sleep alone

safe for the moon in my window.  

It hangs low enough

that I don’t need to call to it.

It cradles me,

soft and reassuring,

whispering into my spine

“There is still so much”