Spring #30


Take my hand
and walk me through the seasons
brush the hair from my eyes
that fall from springs sweet breeze,
kiss me while the leaves
are gold and amber
and love me
like no other
like Springtime in September

I want someone to talk to 

and text when it’s late.

I want to smile

at words that make 

butterflies dance in my tummy. 

I don’t usually write about myself, usually because I close up, hide away. I don’t show my face often, only to those who knock on my mind, plead for words that I refuse to say. I don’t usually write about myself because I find myself uninteresting, unintelligent, ignorant, lacking that wow factor or even a normal way of approaching others. I wear a smile, maybe it’s too big and too much for others to take it. I don’t usually put myself out there because of my sexuality, what I love to do, afraid of how others will judge me. I wear shoes with skates on them, I wear high waist jeans, button up shirts, smudged eye liner. I’m not spectacular, but I strive to be. I’m not that pretty but I imagine what it would be like to be beautiful. I don’t usually look others in the eye because I sometimes tend to stare with interest; my eyes would narrow, a scowl scrawled onto my lips, my heart beating fast because the want to learn more about the human mind and body is so great. I listen to music too loudly, listen to the same songs too many times, tap my foot the same number of times. 



"What would happen if I were gone tomorrow?"

I think, from the deepest parts of my heart I would learn to hate so very much of this world. I would put my book away at night, three pages short of every new chapter and eventually just stare at my stoic and dusted bookshelves. I would grow to…

love this

Average Summer Day

Bitter scented coffee touched

her lips,

wobbly legs exiting her

car before irritation

slammed the old, creaky door.

Platinum waves and a

flimsy skirt blew with the wind

as dirty, gray laces dragged against


She pulled the coffee away,

the stench of sweat from joggers passing by

causing her nose to crinkle and twitch.

There was the crunch of summer leaves under

heavy boots—each a different

shade between green and red—

and the occasional, freshly licked and used

popsicle stick.

She brought the coffee back to

her lips,

her eyes

finally able to skim over

her current read. Once in a while

her eyes

would squint, mouth falling open

as a surprise came from both

elegant and blunt words.

She shivered

but it wasn’t from the wind that tickled

her skirts.

It was the words.

She let out a

content sigh as she read over the

last sentence, phrase and word

on this average summer day. 

a little selfie for you guys:)

She was the light that
shone in my eye.
She had lips that would speak
of love and dedication,
or something as simple as the
food she enjoyed.
She would brush her hair
to the side
with a grace dancers
could never perform.


She had hair of gold and 

teeth of milk,

she had skin so fair and 

a smile like silk. 

Her laughs were bells

and her eyes would shine,

every touch and caress

I could claim as mine. 


How do I speak when

my throat is constricted and

filled with a disease that

seems to keep growing


My hands reach toward

the narrow flesh and

skim over it again and


When the tips of 

shaking digits reach

shaking lips my 

airway grabs my voice 

by the hand and

encourages it to flourish. 


by the time my voice

trails to my tongue and

climbs from it’s hiding place

there is no one to listen. 

If you could make a Grey's Anatomy family on here, who would you be and why?

I would be Arizona because I’m bubbly, perky, awesome and I have kick-ass heelys everyone should be jealous of!