Sing her pastel…

Sing her pastel hues and honey-flavoured wonder


Hold Me, _ _ _ _

You’ll hold me, and you’ll hold me up against bathroom stalls and shove your bony hips against mine.

You’ll hold me through winter nights up until the dog days of summer when we’re out of breath on your mattress that you still haven’t got a bed for, me with an empty bottle of wine and you with your glass of whiskey.
You’ll hold me when I climb back on to the mattress after I’ve gone to the bathroom to look at my wine-stained lips, chapped from kissing you.
You’ll hold your wrist against my neck as I watch the Christmas lights on your wall bounce and you’ll tell me for the fourth time how your record player is broken.
You’ll hold me when I sit down in the middle of the road, my heart pounding to match yours, my hand reaching for yours, skin peeling against the pavement.

You thought I was just swaying.

You’ll hold eye contact across the stage to the dusty yellow-grass crowd and I’ll break it in between fruit stands while you stand with someone else.

Waiting for a Summer That Will Never Come

“She makes me nervous.”

With her wrists held down, apologizing without a purpose,

Linoleum floor whistling

Oh baby

Won’t you do that thing with your hips

Oh baby

Won’t you stumble home again

Bruises on yours, into the pool table

Go for a swim, lose consciousness if you’re able



All white platform heels in the mosh pit

A year later

And it’s funny how you’re asking permission

Isn’t it?

Watch it, goddess

Watch us


Lakeside moon wishing

It isn’t

One leg over the other



Not knowing you had to be forgiving



And being

Much more of it than you had been in the beginning

I’m back

Hey guys I know I haven’t posted in a really really long time, and that’s because I haven’t been very inspired to write. However I have been making a lot of art and whatnot which has been fun, but now I’m getting back into writing. I have a few posts ready to go, I’m so it’s been so long since my last one.


I like the way my skin smells after I get home and I’m staring at the ceiling
Skin on skin on skin

Your sweater
Smells like you, but sweeter
Kind of like
Sunlight and cigarettes
Coffee stained white coat

Pulling the bed sheets over my head
You kiss me after you exhale
You taste like quiet words and your lack of an initial smile

Explaining how time fell back a bit, amd stood still
Lonely, lovely and confused
But mostly alone

Wondering whether or not it would be ok to hold hands with you
Or with another boy
Wondering about you
And another boy
Lying about you
To another boy

I make up things he could never say out loud
I remember them the same way I remember my heart beating against my throat
It’s the same way I forgot about the bruises on your chest
I guess
Your heart beats pretty fast


For once
My hands aren’t shaking
And my teeth are back to tasting like cigarettes in the nighttime
I feel numb
But more than I’ve felt in a long time

Swollen lips
And figuring out how to kiss
Strangers in the dark

Bottom lip bit
Not from anxiousness
From a simultaneous heart beating itself apart

I can’t remember how it started
This empty-hearted
What if

And all that he can promise
Is a
And that he’ll to hold my hand

Neon Moon on a Tuesday Night

Neon moon out shining anything the trees had to say about the blacked out bleary eyed bleach blond beach kids

Hammered only to knock out what doesn’t matter

Stammering panicking over the right words not to say on a rainy day that we’ll spend under your elementary schools stairway to get back to a time before you needed to believe in heaven

7 ways to forget


Every night spent on soccer fields forcing emotions reeling in and out of consciousness

Cautiousness found in hands wrapped around starry nights and white light mornings


Yearning for years spent together during bummy weather thinking of ways to forget that there were once days when August was only a couple of hours in a park not concerning either of their hearts

Quiet Summertime

Pretty promises dreamt during quiet cosmic contemplating
Speculating stolen sweater weather
And ochre addictions
Listen to years of the soft susurration of sentimental trembling
And let it drift into an abyss of distraught remembering
Forced decisions
Eloquently written
Of asking for it without considering
That one day he would come in
And she would tell him chatoyant celestial confessions
Letting him realize
She would not longer compromise
Hands intertwined or
Saudade blue eyes