commitment [0r lack thereof]

commitment [0r lack thereof]

she doesn’t want a boyfriend

“I don’t need anymore friends…”

she’s done sleeping with strangers,

letting undeserving boys into

underused covers.

he’s not like any of the previous ones

especially the last.

white like a glass of milk,

stark against the memory of the bitterness of almond and chocolates.

he sees your impulses as harmful.

he might be right.

Anxious all day after talking all night,

nose bleed upon awakening from troubled dreams

.Hiding your phone under your bed

so you won’t be tempted to say something that can’t be unsaid over text.

“I thought I was over this shit.”






Holding my hand,
As we walk
Along this wooded path,
Moon overhead,
Glowing globe in the dark.
A fellowship, indeed
We are in search of something.
Three friends,
Three a.m.
Wandering through this
Forrest of smoke and adventure,
Reckless behavior.
We were out of place there,
But aren’t all those who adventure,
Out of place?
Adventure was out there,
And for once,
So was I.
Thank you for a good night.



opening doors for people who were once strangers and who now are friends,

that’s me,

letting in boys who were once strange men.

But it doesn’t count now,

because now I know them,

at least in the biblical sense.

Too cool for a girl like me,

this guy seems.

But I still agreed,

I still answered the knock on my door

at 2 in the morning.

I told him to come,

I told him he could,

so he took the cake I offered, and

managed to get sprinkles


I don’t love him,

but I said I would stop being afraid,

being afraid of fun,

of living,

of the dark.

So I answered the knock on my door,

and let him in

and let him accompany me in my dark.


For lily

For lily

his pain

his pain

i still don’t understand.

flowers on anniversaries, sweet kisses on her forehead,

to end like this?


i loved her,

he said.

holding hands at the movies, recording a song for her as a voice mail.

i waited for her,

he said.

i know.

i know.

I remember how she would listen to those songs on the bus,

how she would smile so wide at those flowers,

how nervous she was for the first date.

it’s so hard,

he said,

to hate someone you used to love

so much.

I know,

i know.

smiling to the camera, doing her makeup for a dance.

walking my dog together, every day.

drinking orange juice and eating peta chips after school.

We grew apart like two trees-

close together as saplings,

but leaning away from each other slowly.

She was my bestfriend.

she told me that she gave me time to fix it,

he said,

and that i missed my chance.

Giddy and giggling, that’s how I remember how she was when he asked her out

all those years ago.

Blushing when I teased her about him,

frowning nervously before her first date.

No, we are not the same at all.

she told me that she’d changed,

and that she doesn’t think she loves me anymore,

he said.

We had leaned away slowly.

We coupled off, she with him, and then, me with mine,

but it wasn’t just that.

It wasn’t good enough to try anymore, for her.

She made new friends,

and so did I.

But she stopped saying yes to sleeping over,

stopped staying after school.

No more walking Sadie on a nice afternoon.

she stopped answering my calls and messages,

he said.

Cuddling on the floor of my room in a sleeping bag, whispering into the night.

she went out with him alone,

and didn’t even mention it to me,

he said.

Watching youtube videos on our laptops, sitting out in the sun.

she said that it wasn’t cheating,

that it didn’t count,

he said.

Frowning disapprovingly at my boyfriend, standing me up.

but she moved on before she was even done with me,

he said.

You and I know that that’s infidelity,

I said.

yes, I do, he said.

Forgetting to visit me after surgery, not saying hi to me in the hall.

i blamed myself all the same,

he said.

Not asking for my opinion on your prom dress, calling my passion for makeup silly.

but she’s changed so much since we broke up,

he said.

How you leaned on my shoulder when we were with our other old friends,

How we talked and laughed,

as if we did this all the time.

And how I didn’t try to correct them.

You implied that you and him were done,

and noticed you texting the new guy the entire time.

But I assumed that you had already done it.

I would have never imagined what you have done.

she manipulated me into waiting for her,

he said,

and she put a veil over my eyes,

so i wouldn’t see how much time she spent with him instead of me,

he said.

Yelling at me when I disagree with you, not making eye contact with me for weeks.

Seeing you and him together, hand and hand, on accident.

Ignoring my pain to avoid your own guilt.

i thought she was beautiful, kind and gentle,

he said,

but just suffering from stress.

she called me petty when we got into an argument, after we ended,

he said.

she told me to not tell anyone lies,

(the lie being that she cheated)

he said.

i have been tricked and betrayed by this girl i loved,

and i can’t even fight her now because i don’t want to hurt her.

We leaned away slowly,

but now we have split

down the center.

oh lily,

I have nothing left to say.



Shh… It’s just a crush.

Shh… It’s just a crush.

Don’t worry about it,

You deserve an easy crush.

That’s what my friends say.

Why do I feel the need to whisper about him, only?

He is relegated to only whispers

living in shadows of my


but haunts my dreams.

I start running through the

soul crushing scenarios,

of what could happen if I did say hello.

I bet he’s gay,

Or has a girlfriend,

or his profile photo is

out of date, ancient, not him,

and he’s twice my age.

It’s just a crush,

no harm in a crush, right?

Then why do they give it

such a violent name?

Because this man i’ve never met has the

power to crush me.

All for a harmless crush.

It’s time for Magic

It’s time for Magic

I had a eureka moment a night ago,

of course it’s at night when I was feeling low,

when a happy photo slid down my newsfeed

and, on it’s way, planting a introspective seed.

The photo was recent but it made me think back at loves before,

memories I kept locked because they make my soul sore.

I am young, but these thoughts make me feel ancient.

Looking back, the story I tell you has a blue tint.

My first love was Sean.

Older and wiser,

On his way out the door as I was just entering a world, fresh faced and giddy.

I put him on a pedestal,

I thought he was smart and strong and cool.

Every moment was filled with passion,

excitement, and bliss.

My glasses would fog when we kissed,

My palms would sweat every time we met.

It all tumbled down so fast,

and I cracked like a teacup,

dropped from his tray.

So when I saw a photo of him and his new girlfriend,

(who used to hate him),

despite my prior knowledge of their togetherness,

I felt the teacup crumble a little bit more.

Why do I care?

Why do I wish that he had stayed?

It was 3 years ago,

what’s wrong with me?

But can’t you see,

that the reason you’ve been puzzlingly unhappy with all men

since April 20th, 201o,

is that you never really got over him?

Oh crap.

After your breakup, you played it safe.

Half your heart put on reserve, just in case.

The long relationship afterwards

was safe in the worst way.

Oh you loved him, of course.

But your glasses never fogged,

heart never danced,

palms never got sweaty.

Maybe you weren’t ready?

The new guy was Grant.

Steady, calm, and sweet,

but there was no impromptu dates,

no big dramatic kisses,

no long stares,

and no sage advice.

You realize after it ends,

that there were few moments where you loved him in the same way.

Those moments were beautiful, and properly mourned a couple weeks ago.

But now, as I have recovered,

I realize that I haven’t truely been myself these past 2 and half years dating him.

He never laughed at my jokes like Sean did,

he thought my sense of humor was weird,

so I slowly stopped being funny.

He hated it when I was overdramatic or made a scene, so I started keeping things to myself.

He thought poetry was for pussies so I wouldn’t share it with him, and worst of all,

he didn’t believe in magic, so I couldn’t believe in it with him.

He wasn’t abusive or a jerk, but he changed my personality so slowly that I didn’t even realize until he was gone.

I miss the girl who made jokes to be funny, who didn’t care about where she was when she was yelling, who believed in magic.

I miss the passion, abandon, and love of the first guy,

but until now I only remembered crying for hours afterwards, the loss, the grief, and the harsh rejections.

I spent so much time hating Sean for our horrible breakup that I forgot why I loved it so much.

It’s time for me to be funny, sing in public, and be silly.

It’s time for me to believe in magic, dragons, and the ridiculous.

It’s time for me to be childish and to feel utter joy.

No more restrained smiles, no more slight hugs.

No more chaste kisses, only ones with tongue.

I have no lover now, and I won’t for awhile,

but the next one won’t be

so safe it’s suffocating

nor so fast it makes me breathless.

It’s time for magic.