I didn’t write this but I wish I did. 

i will tell you about selfish people. even when they know they will hurt you they walk into your life to taste you because you are the type of being they don’t want to miss out on. you are too much shine to not be felt. so when they have gotten a good look at everything you have to offer. when they have taken your skin your hair your secrets with them. when they realize how real this is. how much of a storm you are and it hits them.

that is when the cowardice sets in. that is when the person you thought they were is replaced by the sad reality of what they are. that is when they lose every fighting bone in their body and leave after saying you will find better than me.

you will stand there naked with half of them still hidden somewhere inside you and sob. asking them why they did it. why they forced you to love them when they had no intention of loving you back and they’ll say something along the lines of i just had to try. i had to give it a chance. it was you after all.

but that isn’t romantic. it isn’t sweet. the idea that they were so engulfed by your existence they had to risk breaking it for the sake of knowing they weren’t the one missing out. your existence meant that little next to their curiosity of you.

that is the thing about selfish people. they gamble entire beings. entire souls to please their own. one second they are holding you like the world in their lap and the next they have belittled you to a mere picture. a moment. something of the past. one second. they swallow you up and whisper they want to spend the rest of their life with you. but the moment they sense fear. they are already halfway out the door. without having the nerve to let you go with grace. as if the human heart means that little to them.

and after all this. after all of the taking. the nerve. isn’t it sad and funny how people have more guts these days to undress you with their fingers than they do to pick up the phone and call. apologize. for the loss. and this is how you lose her.

– thank you to my queen, rupi kaur, for this piece and many more


It all begins with the cold.

A breeze a gust of wind a chill that covers her bones with frost
and turns her eyelashes to snowflakes
shivers trickling down her spine, sparking a fire in each neuron
as her vision turns white.

She searches among the twisted thorns of her heart, barren of leaves
and life and so cold, cold as ice
wandering barefoot at night trudging through piles of snow, mountains of it
trying to find shelter in a body that’s frozen in fear as she
flashes back to a warm embrace and counting breaths and feeling like home.

But the cold keeps coming and soon enough she can’t find her own thoughts
her mind disappearing faster than the snowflakes fall, dusting her hair with
glistening specks of pale white nothingness because nothing matters except
her need to feel strong again.

She is chilled to the marrow, covered in armor she forged for herself
out of heartache and darkness and seasons of abuse
and soon she’s numb to everything that ever hurt her
hardening what’s left of her heart to the drudge of living.

She’s not bitter, no. She builds herself up this time,
starting slowly and then fast fast faster until she
no longer relies on the mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, lovers and leavers
who have shaped her and defined her and broken her before.

No. In the winter she molds herself out of avalanches and pines,
out of burning embers and frozen earth and wilderness
wreathing a crown of holly for her hair and adorning herself in velvet
because she deserves it.

She cloaks herself in dignity and reigns over the pain inflicted upon her
annihilating every shred of wrongness until she is whole again,
made new of her own accord.

She is her own alpha and omega. Winter is coming.
And she runs.


We grow up watching
watching Disney movies and

and they don’t tell us

We grow up listening
listening to Taylor Swift and
new beginnings and forever and always

and they don’t tell us

We grow up reading
reading words like stay with me and
true love never dies and soul mates

and they don’t tell us

We grow up with ideas
ideas about warm embraces and
someone to sleep next to when the thunder is loud and the lightning flashes through the cracks in our shutters

and they don’t tell us

We grow up with dreams
dreams of I do and
a happy family and one and only

and still they don’t tell us

We grow up not knowing
not knowing that it’s an illusion
it’s not real it’s fake

We grow up
and they don’t tell us
until it’s too late

They tell us a lie
until we’re so disillusioned with love and
happy endings
that we destroy our chances
of ever finding them.