top of page


i can't talk about the sun

the way each ray brushes my skin

sets my cells on fire

reverberating electricity

all the way down to the

hard to reach corners

hidden inside

i can't talk about the good

the warmth

the way my thoughts skip a step

when your lids blink

once, twice, three times

and still your lashes

like sun stained feathers

hold my gaze

i'm trying to protect

the warm smell of rain

as it first meets with the

tired, trodden road

outside my jungle oasis

the way your hand

instinctively moves towards mine

knuckles knocking barely

enough to show you're there

you know

i can't talk about this

because i know

once the letters

in cursive

spill from my lips

my hands

they'll disintegrate like sand in the wind

and left in their place will be a




whispering 'i told you so'

suffocating from the inside out

i'm afraid

of the hollow, empty space

bleeding through my skin

once the words are lost

and i'm forgotten

so, i lock the letters up

let them fill me up

and pretend to be

a pillar

when i'm really just

a puzzle

trying to make sense of

these pieces


bottom of page