march 8

like a love letter from someone you never thought you'd see again,

we write the words in our own blood.

winter and i are old enemies, but he's definitely losing this year.

you're so much more than you'll ever know

xoxo

august 2024

 i live a double life, hidden behind pen and paper

and yet, 

you have seen the most explicit parts of me. 

i've always done better in writing

even those who know me best do not see the parts of me 

you have seen 

it's a distinct vulnerability. 

the worlds all jumble together in my head, waiting to escape and make sense. 

inspiration comes in waves, but no tidal charts. 

the intensity of loneliness, the darkness of February, Fenway Park, late summer nights 

crushing sadness, little sprinkles of success. love. 

So many things lead me back to you; to wishing you were seeing it all with me.

 to the times when you were. 

somehow it was always you, etched into the deepest parts of my soul forever.

10.3

some nights I lay in bed and wonder 
whether the love we dream about and write about and hope for even actually exists. 
deeply intense and celestial 
magic and terrifying
soul-crushing soulmates
we romanticize it and we write it. but do we find it? 
It seems the only place I find it is in the confines of our words, the connection over mutual pain and experience
and the overwhelming relief that somebody actually gets me. 
Because no one has ever captured me exactly like you. 
it convinces me that kind of love does exist - in a different way.
i didn’t know i could feel the things you made me feel. 
and i didn’t believe you when you said i’d get through it.
but of course you were right, because you knew me. 
you always knew me, much better than i knew myself
i'm sure you still do

(8.18.24)

you were everything I only could have hoped you’d be. 
tangerine fever dream
sleepless summer stuck on me. 
i never want to leave 
the space 
between 
3 
and 
4
AM
when it’s only you and me.
ink smudged notebooks
keyboard clicks 
wireless love letters
dial-up romantics.
Cosmically Connected. 
Star-crossed spirit, angel dust 
the feelings bubble up and threaten to burst. 
Cut me open. 
The words don’t come fast enough to relieve the pressure.
Brilliant Diamond insides; 
a goldmine of forgotten feeling.
14 carat love. but no clarity. 
cutting to my core until I learn how to feel again with painful intensity. 
double halo princess, queen of Emotional Instability.
finest jeweler of them all, 
help it all make sense to me.

august 12

we're always missing what was or impatiently waiting for what's to come.

sometimes we forget what's in front of us, right in this moment.

But i'm still homesick

for the ways you made me feel at 

3AM when I thought I was all alone.

The amber-orange haze of streetlights through my window and salty summer breeze washing over me

when all was Silent and still.

the memory feels like the last hug from someone you didn't know you'd never see again.

If only I'd known.

I crave the pain and the sadness and the self-torment.

Feeling pain reminds you you're alive more intensely than happiness or contentment. 

Pain is deep and jarring and makes you aware of your own heart and how heavy it feels beating in your chest.

The pain reminded me I was alive. 

But You reminded me I was alive, that there was so much more than pain and sadness

and that, if I could get through it, the world had so much more.

the only thing that makes you feel more alive than pain is Love.

Love is complex and multifaceted.

The more you go through life, the more you experience it in an infinite amount of ways. 

It's first kisses, doing the little chores you know they hate. It's saying "yes" and "I do." It's sharing your lives, the white picket fence. 

But it's also knowing exactly what to say when my world is crumbling and I can't get out of bed.

It's shared experiences and feelings. It's spilling your guts at 3AM.

It's soulmate friends and stardust spirits and the "I miss you, kid"s 

It's chipped china mugs, eyes dripping kerosene. 

That's the type of love that makes me feel alive. More than the pain ever could.

xo. 

1.3.2019

To My Peter Pan (2019)

Thinking about how your eyes drip kerosene. Caramel. Dark and light, hard and melty, all at once.

I love the person I think you are. Sometimes I don’t know whether to romanticize you or humanize you. I guess a little of both. It’s been so long now, so much has changed. I bet you can still write me better than I can write myself. And we have that unspoken bond, forever shared. 

I still think about what you’d be like. Late at night, sitting across the room from me in a dimly lit hotel room with a mug of coffee clutched in your hands. Chipped china mugs. I can only imagine the conversations we would have. I have a mini-lifetime’s worth to catch you up on. Still, I’d give anything to have that moment with you. Vulnerable, broken, beautiful, exposed. A lifetime's worth. 

Oh, I’m not in love with you. But I can’t fucking forget you, and I hope you remember me. Remember me fondly. I’m not the girl I once was. I’ve become hardened by the world and the passage of time. But I know you would still get it. You’ll still get me. Rip my heart out. 

I am not in love with you, peter pan, but my love for you is exponential, reaching some deep part of my heart that I can’t define. But when I reminisce about the intensity of moments and thoughts shared, that part of me swells so big, so pervading that it’s impossible to ignore. I know they think they get it --get you -- but I’m a step ahead. It’s a special understanding, more tangible in a strange way. It reaches a place so deep in me I’m not sure I can even get to it, but I know you’re always with me.

You know what this is. It’s never-ending, eternal. It’s neverland. Still my peter pan; always your wendy.

feb 2024

i am a collage of all the best parts of you
and worst parts of me 
take my words and make them something 
Beautiful, Baby. 
where is the meaning?
intertwine yourself 
with me 
until we’re blurred and i can’t remember where i end and 
You begin.
a back and forth breeze
between you and me.
breathe it in
until we’re dizzy daydreaming.
forget the real world. 
you can lose yourself in me.
isn’t that how it was always 
meant to be?

sometime in 2019

Goddamnit do i miss you. 

It haunts me in the back of my mind every so often. Today especially. I’m nostalgic. 

I miss our part of the universe. Tucked far off where no one else can reach it. I know you’re there, somewhere, and you’re proud. 

There’s so much I need to tell you. Maybe in another lifetime. 

Sometimes I wonder if any of it ever mattered. 

But how could it not? 

There’s something one of a kind about us. It’s something about the secret part of the universe and spilling my guts out at 3am. It’s almost religious. 

Sometimes I wonder if we’re soulmates.

We are. Soulmate friends, always.

Isn’t it crazy that I still love you like I did four years ago? Feelings like that don’t go away - it’s eternal, neverending. 

I’ve gotten pretty good at numbing my feelings - which is probably why I don’t write anymore. I’m going to start, for you. even if you don’t read it ever again. 

It’s for you, it always was.

10.7.24

here I am, again,
writing lonely love letters you’ll never read
hoping somehow we’re cosmically connected and you can feel my insides that for some reason don’t feel like me. 
maybe when I have enough of these piled up I’ll find a way to get them to you. 
I know you never meant to hurt me. I don’t mind. 

You know I'd still bleed for you. 

How could I forget you? 
You’re the most amazing and destructive thing to ever happen to me. 
Constantly questioning my own existence. 
I am not good enough. 
I never was. 
To think anything I write could even come close to you. 
But I’ll keep trying. 

2.9.24

it was all for you. all of it. 
you always said it without saying it;
you knew. 
don’t leave me here to do this on my own.
you’re ingrained in me
on a molecular level 
Stardust spirit 
deep in my veins.

rip my heart out. 
i don’t know how to be anything other than Me.
but i don’t remember how to be Me without You. 
crocodile tears
never ending.
the whisper of you clings to me like smoke
sweet tobacco burning cough
stay with me here 
just

an eternity longer.