You were a
foreign language
and I found myself
speaking in tongues
along your body;
uncharted and boundless



another spin
around the sun;
a few more scars,
and a few
less fucks given.
the sun fought
to show herself
this morning –
something I needed
more than any gift
could have given.
If she can rise
despite the weight of
the universe,
I could surely pull mine.

*written on my birthday*


summer thunder
fueled our need for
and I swear as kids
we could feel the lightning
in our veins.
Muddy water roared
summoning us
foolish youth.
We reached the edge
exposing all that we were
and mother nature eagerly
baptised us in her unruly waters.
Heads and limbs bobbed
as we were carried,
possessed by her lawless ways.
I remember thrashing
against the rocks,
trying to reach for the sky.
I was too scared
to open my eyes,
too scared she
would let go.

Continue reading “tributary”


If it’s real,
if it’s real raw
and these vices
have quieted themselves
and the burn is
now just a sting –
I think I can find
peace in
the idea of you.
take me where you go
when you need
to be alone

I want to wrap
the pieces of me
around the places
where you keep
the weight of it all.
Needle myself deep
into the core of
where you exist —
there’s so much
to be shown,
to be held
between these
anxious hands.

I refuse to
be pinned
between the notion of
giving all and
giving up –
let me cradle your doubts
and make them my own;
end the steady pour
of salt in these
deeply rooted wounds.


If you were
an open book
I’d read you from
beginning to end
then backwards again,
I’d trace each word
until my fingers
could conduct your thoughts
through memory
a silent symphony.
I’d take a marker
and black-out the musings
of your mind,
then rip them out
page by page.
Keep you all for myself
before the world discovered
the treasure that is you.


There’s not a part of me
that doesn’t want to love you
(I know you can’t say the same)
and I know
you won’t stay for long
and we both know
you hang my words
on the end of
the last drag before
you sleep at night
(you don’t want to remember)
exhale my attempts
to find your soul a home,
a place to be alone.

There’s something about
the first time you lose yourself;
the thrill of being on the
edge of existence,
so I threaded myself
in the places where
you hide your ghosts –
and I have come to understand
why your first instinct
is to run
And I need to know:
when the well runs dry,
who’s heart will you
stake in next?


The fog would sit
like a blanket
over this field
and often
laid me down to sleep,
as I laid on my back
in this overgrown grass
arms outstretched
to the sky, to you.
We were almost alike.

Midnight heat
sat thick and
clung to my body
(at least I could feel something)
and often I tried to write
your name with stars
to keep you somewhere
in our universe;
I refuse to believe
you’re not out there,
I still don’t know how
to handle this hole
in my heart
and the one
we laid you in.

I find myself like you:
in pieces.
And I would be lying if
I said I wasn’t scared
and I would be lying if
I said I haven’t tried
to bargain with God.
He doesn’t understand
the importance of
a pinky promise
like we did,
but then again
you promised to never leave.