love is energy,

constantly moving, changing.

before now,

i couldn’t keep up.


the pace is perfect.

love is patient and love is kind.

love is sweet.

love is me.


maybe if i write it here then it will be true.

maybe i should disappear,

maybe it’s not you.


i sometimes hold myself too accountable,

make myself too accessible.


but this is my nature.


to be punished for your own nature

is a pain like no other.

to be misunderstood would come first,

if they weren’t the same thing.


i’ll write it here for you to see,

here for you to never read.


maybe it’s me.


pink pastels and all the pastels


the dreams are vivid

now I see

disco dreams with an hour in between

under peach skies,

I remember him

the one who found my smile

wondering what’s next

and sometimes thinking of you

your energy, my fuel

sonnets for summer nights.


This isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last.

Moving slow, peering through the glass.


He says he doesn’t know me

but I’ve seen his soul.

Alleyways, stair wells

I know what he knows.


A life of darkness without me, the sun.

Being as complex as Jupiter, knowing when to run.

This isn’t the first time and It won’t be the last.

Moving slow, peering through the glass.


Visions of an all too realistic 4th avenue

Rainy, yet no thunder

Society hides the sun

as I’m still evolving.

Spilling from the sky, sleeping on the sidewalk

makes me wonder how I keep from going under,

makes me dream about so much more.

Up walks my love when the rain is at its worst.

The sun left before but losing you is worse.

They’ve clouded your divinity.

and I’m the one that hurts.

Imagine being a pure Pisces on May 11th of 2015.

Being 20.

Blue Icees and sometimes blue me.

An empress and a butterfly

in a world that fears magic.

A curious collection of stars,



The colors on the ground,

scattered, mixed with brown.

I sit with swirls of yellow and orange towering over me.

A cold that I can’t feel.

I look away and there’s loss.

Now it’s cold and now I know.

I’m aware that there is a lack

and I’m familiar with loss.

All too familiar with loss.

Loss of yellow,

loss of orange,

and even green.

I look up.

Blue, purple, red, and pink, all still here.


You only call me Space Babe

when you can’t wait to disappear.

I need it this time, love.

Stay where you are.

I mean it this time, love.

I saw God’s hand come from the sky

and now I’m lonely,


A gift, a curse.

This hurts.

I once used a telescope to cope

with the fact that you’re so cold and

I do miss when Pluto was a planet.

An angel told me this time would be different

and the old me disappeared.

It’s been years.

He can call me Space Babe

from wise and affectionate lips.

Real and endless.

This is space.


I’m surely drowning

when I’m asked what’s on my mind.

I decline out of fear you won’t understand

and just like that

it’s over.

That’s all I needed to hear.

I’m here but I’m not

and sometimes I’m all I’ve got.

You don’t know why you were born in March

or why your Mom never asks you to come home.

You can still fade away.

I dreamt of my 22nd birthday

almost as an escape.

Now I’m flying.


I always wake up at this time

calculating, growing,


always glowing.

The tables always turn

once the lesson is learned.

I left on a Thursday

with violet on my lips

after realizing that last night’s dreams

could be every night’s dream.

I am immersed then suddenly free.

Never again will you see me

in such a light.

A star now and forever,

your regret.

I’m awake as

a fresh day looms.

I think of home.

Think of crispy, fall air.

So this is the city without you.

Nothing matters

when it’s not your season.

You broke me and I

missed you all the way.


 I’m downtown in a red dress

thinking of my first love when my last one happens to walk by.

I’m sure you know beauty

when you are beauty.

It’s okay to rely on the moon.

Pink nails remind me I’m still alive.

I’m  told to wear blue on a day

where vibes weren’t matching up.

I’m here to explore.

Green like money,

a tool and nothing more.

A girl from Russia lives differently

and that is our connection.

A silent, but strong presence.

Yellow is ignored.

I remember sitting, surrounded by painted yellow walls

and not saying a word.


on a day I felt completely transparent,

A mystic angel kept pulling ‘justice’

long after it was just us.

That’s all I needed to see.

It rains and I let it.

I become emotion, shapes.

I am purple by the time

I realize the moon is late.

She is beautiful like I desire to be.

Her cheeks turn rosy over the ‘lovers’ card.

A black, dreamy, space diva.

How divine.