yesterday, i bathed in paint stripper

i scrubbed away my floral facade,
all the murals covering my face
to show you the truth of my body,
my gnarled and twisted roots,
but you were disgusted
by the dirt stains
and beetles skittering
between my creases
so i tried tattooing
bouquets onto my limbs
to cover all my scars
so you’d reconsider
not planting me in
your yard

My face is made up of poems I forgot to write

My relationship with myself has been
a lot of lipstick smudges on coffee shop mugs
and half-formed poems written
in journals I’ll never fill up.
I’ve forgotten my name a time or two
and I don’t always recognize my body
in the mirror in my bathroom.

I wonder if my blog
has become more of an
autobiography because I’m too
egotistical to let my memory be forgotten
whenever I die (something I’m afraid will
happen any day now – a car crash, a fire,
a suicide), so I try to explain
why I am the way I am
in similes and metaphors
because I don’t know how any other way
or how to make my lips form
the names of depression, anxiety,
selfishness, or otherwise.
My fingers have started bleeding at night
from trying to climb the walls
in my sleep because
they’re beginning to feel
more and more like the sides of a coffin
and I haven’t written enough poems yet.
Day 18 Na/GloPoWriMo

the watcher of my body

i am only the observer
to the blanketing gardens
that cover my thighs,
never the gardener, my hands
not steady enough
to plant seeds nor saplings
i turned my body over
to the queen, the bumblebees
so they might pollinate me,
make flowers from my skin,
pull honey from my diseased body,
bring me into their hive
and have their larvae feast upon
the poems i never wrote, the history
i never told, the flowers
i never had the courage to name.
Day 13 of Na/GloPoWriMo


Note: So I wrote a few drafts of today’s poem, and I’ve narrowed it down to two. I’m not sure which I like better, so I figured I would just post them both! Enjoy!
Draft 1:
I am screa-
-ming for you, calling your name, throwing it 
into the mountains, hoping the echoes will reach 
my throat is bloody, 
I am whis-
-pering your name in the dusk,
praying fairies and fireflies will hear it and find you 
blood covers 
every vowel I say 
my throat is closing, 
I cannot speak 
or scream
or breath 
Draft 2:

I’ve been whispering your name into the dusk,

hoping a fairy or a firefly will hear me and
find you
tell you I’ve been looking for you,
climbing up cliff faces, running through forests,
taking every subway line
tell you I’ve been crying in my sleep,
my mouth forming your name
even when I have no breath to speak
tell you
I’m still waiting, hands in my pockets, head down,
whispering your name
Day 6 of Na/GloPoWriMo
Prompt: Play with line breaks

What did you see before you died?

I laid on the bathroom floor,
the tile pressing against my cheek
and looked at the blackened mold
growing along the edge of the toilet,
and wondered
if this is what you saw before you died

and I closed my eyes
and watched the veins pulse
inside my eyelids
and wondered
if this is what you saw before you died

and I screamed
and wondered if this
is what you heard before you died.


NaPoWriMo- April 9, 2016

My stepmother always wished I was good at basketball.

Bloody footprints followed me
across the basketball court
as I ran
back and forth
and you laughed
again and again.

I ran faster,
slipping on blood
and falling forward
again and again,
trying to grab hold of the ball
as the recording
of your laughter
played on the radio,
blasting from
my phone speakers
and the school’s loudspeakers
and my own throat.

My chin hit the asphalt,
splitting in two,
a crack running up my face,
around my head,
down my spine
and back up my body,

spitting me in two

the ball bounced
between the halves of my body,
staining itself red
and rolled off
the basketball court,
and into the grass,
becoming lost
as you yelled
for me to get the ball.


Day 2 NaPoWriMo