Love Is My Sister

the idealized version of my tomorrow self will fix this

i am terrified that

if i start loving her

i will never be able to

feel anything else again.

to be swallowed whole

by something so profound—

i'm not sure i would be

strong enough to survive

the tide that followed.

i would spend the rest of my life

trying to cough her out of my lungs.

-mars

Good Person

am I a good person?

a question that I fear

it haunts my waking nightmares with its overwhelming aura

a ring light made of noise

a circle made of hurt

it trembles when I consider that it really could be true

I am a good person?

I don't think I believe

it's hard for me to fathom that I really could have worth

a currency of questions

a stock market of deeds

it pains me just to realize that I am a person, too

time wasnt right

there is dust

in my childhood bedroom

cobwebs span the corners

reaching out

to touch

the abandoned walls

everything is covered in dust

my books

my floor

my collections, long since abandoned

touch anything and you'll

come away

with gray residue

reminiscent of a life once lived

only

i am still here

living

right?

or am i, too

covered in dust

a relic

of a former girl

this isnt how life is supposed to be

SESTINA FOR A HEALED WOUND

tsunami

what is a crush?

it is searching for your initial on those

"interact to claim" posts

it is thinking of your name

every time someone mentions a crush

it is looking at you

just to look

i cant help it that you're pretty

it is making you laugh and then

saying more things to make you laugh more

amid the ache in my stomach knowing

you dont feel the same way

it is promising myself

that i wouldnt write poetry about you

but here i am

with a poem

it is the ocean going out

so slowly that you dont realize

until you are standing

and a wave looms large

and you cannot help

but be swallowed

by the sea

with every inch of you a miracle, their palates growing weary of wine, this grace from which you've fallen, that grave from which you climb,

with every mile of you like magic, stretched, a black ribbon round me,

a hare in your hat,

the curtain drawn - you saw me in half

and every half of me a creature, atlas-shoulered brittle, butterfly wings

flapping,

a sea of typhoon winds at my command

Recognition

one day i will be

able to see myself in

the mirror again.

umbrella

my dad pops his trunk

"do you want my umbrella"

it rains the whole day