In which I personify our winter break up as my least favorite calendar months.

December was never one for subtlety.

He’d slink up behind me every year,

sprinkling snowflakes down my spine,

pressing the breeze into my knuckles,

tapping morse code love poems

on my window until I fell asleep.

But January was jealous,

always lept in too fast,

eager to get her own share of winter.

She’d woo him with her howling winds

and freeze me out with icy stares,

and they’d be hand in hand in no time.

I wouldn’t even feel the chill

until he was already halfway gone,

me with my heart in my hands

on the sidewalk, shivering until spring.


F— Off, December.

December looks the same to me

Come its arrival very year

The month I waste on longing

For an end to dreaded tears


I rip it out in calendars

And I hate to say its name,

For December is a constant

That puts my heart to shame


A pinky promise, a kiss on the nose

January fools me every time

Has me thinking this might be the year

When winter begins to feel just fine


But every time the last month

Comes back around to show his face

He breaks my naive heart again

To put me back into my place



I told you to leave, that I didn’t care,

but now your absence is everywhere —

kisses still caught up in my hair,

the smell of you that’s always there.

I spoke too soon, now I can’t bear

our two goodbyes still up in the air.

Why Everything Is A Draft:

I’ve always been loved in fragments,

love letters half written and

never surpassing drafts;

I’ll admit I write these things myself,

but never forged reality

to take after my craft.


He tells me he’s in love

but never says with whom,

he holds my hand, invites me in

but I’ve never even seen his room.


I await the day I’m bold enough

to rid myself of this tired game,

the one where he’ll finally say “I love…”
but won’t stay long enough

to say my name.

The Kind Of Texts That Wake Me Up

And I know you only see me

in that 3am “U awake?” message

that I read with glassy eyes

and an itchy mouth


But I see you in the galaxies

of my iris, in the flecks

of dust that filter through


The sunlight by every window


And sometimes, I even hear

the notes of your laughter on my neck

in the dialogue of strangers

that passes through the breeze


I guess what I’m trying to say is:

I know you only remember me

on the nights your body’s racing

too fast to fall asleep


But I couldn’t not remember you

even if I wanted to

and God knows





A Sidewalk Story

And my grandma always told me

I was a tough, tall tree

with roots indestructible


Roots undeniable


But I can’t help but see myself

in the fallen leaves you step on

with such ease.


What do you think of

when you hear the crunch?

Time Bomb

Every time a room gets too quiet

I find myself ducking for cover.


Clocks ticking

Feel more like bombs

Waiting to burst


Your heartbeat is a countdown

To my own destruction


I flinch whenever it strikes


One more hour gone

One less I have


To run for my life.