At nine years old I started running with the breeze

Catchin sundrops from a sky that I could only describe as my friend

Yelling at girls who didn’t know what nintendo was

I was giving away my fruit snacks and writing words in my notebooks that no one thought I meant

I meant everything 

Feeling like the planets never living up to the big bang

I sang, I sang desperate

alone in my room watching the ceiling fan take off like an airplane that never got off the runway

I wanted to run away

Take off so far that not even resuce helicopters knew where to find me

Not a compass or a map filled with criss crossing lines and red dots marking where you were supposed to be going

That was the thing.

I didn’t want to go anywhere

I wanted to swing from the ribs of a person who could tell me that the grey in the sky was supposed to be that way

And that people didn’t always mean what they’d say

That it would be okay.

I learned from making time and not noise that it takes more than blood to keep a heart beating

And I couldn’t stop running

I saw fireflies in the day time and I knew that my rectangular purple suitcase wasn’t going to hold my feelings

So I started writing

I took green crayon to the walls of my bedroom and turned white into a forrest 

where I bled

I shoved it all out of my head and I wrote

Verb, noun to adjective, noun, verb, adjective, semi colon


At sixteen I couldn’t tell the difference between growing up and graveyards

I wrote a story about passion 

My teacher gave me an F but he told me after class that I was right

I told him he lost his passion

Some days I wore words instead of my skin

And the breeze wore me down thin

Until my teardrops were fossils in the beds of my knees and my collarbones were rivers kissing my water away

I knew my bones were my jailbreak and crime shows taught me just enough about escaping

I couldn’t resist sleeping on the clouds so forgive me for never coming down

His voice crashed into my thunder eyes

Lightning storm, power lines, flooded lungs from heavy breathing 




I can hear you

It toppled me over, my face was in the floor and I swear I couldn’t say anything but 

“Worth it”

I still haven’t decided if he was worth it, but my heart veins pump the fastest and I could tell ya every color shirt he ever wore just because I finally saw something other than gray

I swore some day

My lips would be more than just two pipes blowin smoke out of a chimney, whistlin beautiful, I told you

His eyes told me a story I thought only my green covered wall knew

I coulda sworn my handwriting swore to secrecy that day and I still don’t know how his heartbeat found the key to my laugh box 

And It kills me that my footprints are still in his toolshed of broken things that couldn’t find fixing

I am not a half finished project 

I am a canvas splattered with confused ideas and uninspired events

I am street lights that people mistake for the moon

I know I’m nothing extraordinary but my heart beat tells me otherwise

The fact that my power lines still sing to my body, fluorescent 

I will never stop to dig a grave for a heart that needs mending

My mom told me, “Honey, if they’re whole, then they’re doing it wrong.”

I never liked being wrong.