i listen to soft acoustic music

and taste summer on my tongue

as my eyelids are dotted with flashes of color

from memories of so so long ago

~ take me back


she asked how to be beautiful

and i assured her she already was

but words had been fed to her

through oatmeal and salad

and she never believed

~ how can you be searching for something you already are?


dearest darling girl

you live in an world with infinite possibilities

and you can be anything you desire

and the world will be all the more magical

for having you grace it with all the love

your heart has to offer

~ my mother is a poet too


i don’t desire much in this life.

i want sunsets on the lake

cheek kisses with Burger King slushees

laughs in the library with friends

fried chicken with salt gravy

and i want to remain a girl who is never afraid to love


beauty was a word that i yearned to have

and savor in my mouth like sweet honey candy

just waiting to be used with my name

i cut my hair

changed by clothes

and quit eating

for beauty

and yet beauty was never a word i saw

when i looked in the mirror

or went to the pool

~ i gave everything to be beautiful but i never was

when i was a little girl

with hair the color of red molten gold

i whispered my secrets into the sandy at beaches

and made earrings out of ivy leaves

but when i was older than twelve

it suddenly became clear that my secrets

were only good for gossip

and i needed gold hoops in my ears

because i was a woman then

~i never asked to grow up


i will never forget the day

that a tigress walked into my life

and told me the stories behind her stripes

that inspired me so much

i wasn’t ashamed of my own


i need to learn how to leave things messy


to stop trying to change the curls of my fair

the way my bed sheets tangle around my ankles

and the freckles scattered across my nose



dusty cobwebs seem to clutter

around my aorta

and i wish with all my heart

i knew how to clear them away

~my heart is not visited much

i hope you don’t find yourself one day

sitting in a library

with eyes that have forgotten how to drink in words

and a smile littered with all the words you wanted to say

but let them instead cling to your gums

and make your smile sharp

~you were always such a fragile and dangerous thing

here is to all the people you have to be

and all the things you have to do this week

just to feel worthy of love

~you will always have worth my darling

eating disorder.

food is still not my friend

and i still view the kitchen as a battle field

i have almost come to hate

the feeling right before i’m full

because then i know that i could be fine

if only i could keep telling myself

that food was not something to be feared

and hunger was not something to want for

~I ate full meals once upon a time without guilt

road map.

disgust burns acidic paths down my throat

and sadness compounds a self loathing lump

deep inside the endless cavern of grief i hide

in the confines of my freckled skin

can that girl really be me?

i promised to stay true to myself

and i said no one could ever change me

but here i am staring at a reflection of a girl

that says all the wrong words

and acts so differently

that i am almost convinced

that she isn’t me

and my insides splinter as i realize,

i made myself this way

and now i would do anything to go back

and try to find the girl i threw away secretly

so i could still tell myself that i am ok

and that i have a roadmap of me

that could always lead me back to her again

~and the worst part is–that no one even noticed how i tore myself apart to keep my best pieces


i am still clawing my way back up the slope

that seems so easy to fall down

i still feel like i should have loose jeans

and that my thighs shouldn’t touch

and i am still trying to survive

~ it’s never easy


i scribble lines on paper napkins

blue sticky notes

and between my science notes

i seek out interesting people

and twist their stories into stanzas

i drink hot coco until 2:00 am

and smile at the ink inside my veins

that has been dribbled all over my skin

in the shape of end marks

and when you ask me how i can write


i will always smile and say that is the least of it

~ i am the best form of poetry

there are worlds you have not written about,

boys you haven’t dreamed about

and a life you have yet to live

~ i refuse to believe that this is all there is


she and i lean back in our chairs

and wiggle our sock clad toes

as we trade stories about the prettiest smiles

and the saddest eyes


i always bring the snacks

usually starbursts

and i pick out all the yellow ones for her

and she leaves me all the pink


and on friday i pack an extra set of clothes

because i know that

she will always forget

that it is gym day


~best friends forever

he calls me maddy.


he thinks my favorite color is grey

and i don’t argue


he gets me roses without thorns

and i don’t tell him

that i still have mine


he thinks that my laugh was made for him

and i disagree


~ and he calls maddy, which is not how you spell my name




my hair lays in a mix of curls

that barely brushes the top of my sage green shirt


i am dancing through the living room

listening to linsey stirling


i have a smear of chocolate beside my mouth

from a pumpkin chocolate chip muffin


my fingers are covered in marker streaks

and colors cover the freckles on my thumbs


my hair has a different shampoo scent

and my fingernails are painted with a silver sheen


~ i may only be this version of me for a day, but it still makes me feel beautiful




it’s not your fault that the world has raised them blind

that they can’t see worth aside from scale numbers

and followers

~it’s not your fault they are blind to your worth

give me pizza with orange grease

cream soda with apple cider

and index cards with things you love about me

~i never asked for fancy

bullet points.

you asked for my life in ten bullet points

and i couldn’t even say one

but i can tell you of all my bullet holes

from the wars it has taken to reclaim myself

~you didn’t ask the right question

nameless girl.

i had a name once

and everyone said it differently

until i was a different girl

for each of them

but now my name is used thing

all battered and tattered

and worn from wear

and when people say it now

it falls lifelessly to the floor

like a bird with clipped wings

who once tasted freedom

~ how can a name be familiar and strange all at once?

i listen to instrumental versions

of all my favorite songs

clip out rainbows and tropical leaves

from all the magazines on the table

and i let my eyelids close as i try to find the words

that have been running from me for weeks

~they still are fleeing from a girl turned poetess


i saw the notifications on my phone

and i wanted to say that no,

i couldn’t come

and no,

i sick

~but all my energy is taken just to make my chest move

girl with the paper heart.

i sit in library at school with her

my hands full of scribbled science index cards

and we laugh at how i say the words

and how she never answers right

but when she calls me at night

while i brush my wild hair

she sobs to me about the friend that lashed out

the boy who said he loved her

and how the world never stopped

her heart is paper

and everyone knows how to strike a match

~ yet she still rises from the ashes every day

I have never know a better Phoenix

sunshine girl.

sunshine used to tangle

in the curls of her hair

and shine brightly from

the golden flecks in her eyes

it used to show up with her smile

and leave you breathless

but that is before

her sunshine went away

her hair was duller and hung limp

her eyes never left the ground

and she never smiled anymore

the sunshine girl was gone

no one complimented her magic

when it shone in every word

and drew designs on her skin

in freckles

but when it was gone

they questioned

where their sunshine girl had left to

~ did you never see my thunder clouds?

not that girl.

you call out my nickname

and i never turn around

because the word is coated with honey

but with underlying bitterness

yes that is my name

but you are not calling me

~ i am not the girl you are calling

not that girl.

you call out my nickname

and i never turn around

because the word is coated with honey

but with underlying bitterness

yes that is my name

but you are not calling me

~ i am not the girl you are calling


it’s been a year since i cut my hair

down to ragged ends that stretched longingly towards my shoulder blades

it’s been a year since i broke

and skipped meals for the sake of a loose waist band

it’s been a year since i’ve seen a familiar face

peeking out behind the curls in my hair

as i stare longingly in the mirror

wanting to feel something

it’s been a year since i’ve worn my favorite coconut lip balm

and sucked on my breath while wearing a shirt

it’s been a year since i caressed the pages of my favorite novel

since i’ve been too busy writing my own

~ it’s been a year since i transformed

too little town.

i don’t go to the coffee shop

that serves my favorite hot coco

and i don’t walk through the library doors

because i know that you will be there too

you’ll be at some back table

listening to music i always laughed at

and mouthing the words to the classic novel

that is beside your laptop

and i know i said we could be friends

and i promised myself that it would be ok

but this town is too little

for the both of us to love similar parts

and still be happy

~i am not brave enough to go to a place i know you’ll be

curled up in my favorite fuzzy pink blanket

eating mint Girl Scout cookies

and pouring over a princess-turned pirate book

~ you asked when i was happiest

11 years old.

i was once eleven years old


i wore black leather ballet shoes on tuesday

and let blue rasberry candy stain my tongue


i wore cleats on thursday

and let sweat trickle underneath my black jersey


i sang every chance i got

and was addicted to the smell of acrillic paint


i believed in so many things


~i am not eleven years old anymore

i am nostalgic tonight

i sit quietly in a car beside the window

looking at the mix of neon lights

and double yellow lines that line the road

and i think of the girl i was only two months ago

she didn’t flip to the end of books

afraid to face a sad ending

she didn’t stumble on words

that she knew by heart

she didn’t make a mistake

like falling for someone

who couldn’t possibly ever feel the same way about her

she didn’t eat

sweetened cranberries in french class

because she had stopped caring completely

and she didn’t frown while smelling the musty smell

of library books

~who is this girl you left me to become?

i don’t want to be remembered

as ordinary or beautiful

i want to be remembered as the artist

who gave everyone paint to make

the world less drab

but kept none for herself

~ i am a word giver forever

why do i always want the window seat on a plane?

because now i can see what it means to fly

not just feel it

like when i’m with you

my friends ask me why i don’t flirt

and i wish they could understand

that i don’t their kinda love.

i want someone who makes me pancakes

and dots flour on my nose.

i want someone who can make me laugh

and not feel ashamed of how loud it is.

i want someone who treats me like a princess

but never forgets i slayed my own dragon

i don’t want the kind of love that my friends have

and i don’t think i could have it

because somewhere inside of me

i would lock certain things about me

inside a cage

and that is no way to love

my friends ask me why i don’t flirt

and i wish they could understand

that i don’t their kinda love.

i want someone who makes me pancakes

and dots flour on my nose.

i want someone who can make me laugh

and not feel ashamed of how loud it is.

i want someone who treats me like a princess

but never forgets i slayed my own dragon

i don’t want the kind of love that my friends have

and i don’t think i could have it

because somewhere inside of me

i would lock certain things about me

inside a cage

and that is no way to love

laying on our backs

so we can see the sky

playing old rock and roll from my phone

echoing in a yellow cup

like a homemade Bluetooth speaker

wiggling our toes

in grass that tickles

| i am happy to be alive |

i don’t want to wake up one day

with a 9 to 5 desk job

living in the city i went to college in

and eating at the same brunch place

on hwy 25

two exits before the boring brown building

i waste my day in

and i don’t want to realize that my life is

slipping through my fingers

because of the times i never went to the pool

thanks to the stretch marks on my jiggly thighs

and the days i didn’t want to go out

because i was less than perfect

i don’t want to sit at my cheap desk

and watch the same words blur my vision

thinking of how i could have been more

i could have done more

i could have lived more

and i could have loved more

but i let the voice of fear

fester inside of my head

until i woke up fifteen years later

with a heart scarred by “what if”

eyes that no longer shine with excitement

and a sense that my life was never lived

~i wish so badly that i could go back


i relapsed

and i felt my world crumble

as i felt the familiar feeling

of wanting to have a loose waist band

on my jeans

and i tried not to cry

but oh god i want to

~ and i said i was better

i have light blue nail polish slivers

at the creases of my thumbs

and a green heart drawn in sharpie

near my left ear

i tossed a purple balloon “chicken” in pe

and sighed at the sight

of the tarnish on my golden flower ring

~ I adore friday

there is familiarity in the way she grabs the clothes i offer

and disappears with a quick “thanks” into the bathroom stall

and you know the moment when you meet your best friend?


i feel it



autumn me.

i have not shaved my legs in weeks

not since the last time i wore a swimming suit

and they are cover with fuzz that tickles

the inside of my jeans that i wear at school

even though it is hot outside


my hair has less blonde and more brown

with red here and there

trying to fit into the colors that surround me


and this girl,

this fall me that i keep trying to awaken,

is trying too


she tries to arouse the euphoric feeling that comes

with the thought of apple picking

and hot cinnomon doughnuts

and air that smells like rain and smoke


but it’s hard to grasp the feeling of happiness for this season

because i am too big to hide in leaf piles that fill our yard

too heavy to sit in the branches of our apple orchard

now states away


and i get the feeling

that the fall me

maybe not be coming back


because she lived in a place

where fall was everything

and happiness was easy to get


her red sweater is seen swiftly turning a corner

as she runs late to history again


she pushes vintage sunglasses further up on her head

and angrily swipes her brown hair out of her eyes


and then she smiles


and you forget your name

the date

and the words that had formed perfectly in your mouth


~the girl who smells like cinnamon and baseball game hotdogs




i’ve fallen in love too much with the summer me

i’ve forgotton what fall is like


i’m stuck on the girl who goes swimming in the rain

drinks cherry coke in a glass

eat hot fudge cakes

braids yellow bracelets

laughs at her imperfections

and doesn’t repaint her chipped green nail polish


and i think i am afriad to find out where she goes

when the leaves turn color

and the air smells like smoke and pumpkins


i was sitting on my bed reading poetry

when i felt the symtoms come again

and i closed my eyes

and tried to remember that i was ok

and that i could wear yellow without wincing

and that my stumach didn’t need to be empty

and the scale did not control me

and that stress would pass


but i just don’t know anymore


saturdays remind me of football


boys with kind smiles

pop music

the smell of sourdough bread

and brassy necklace chains


~saturdays seemingly always remind me of you

beanie boy.

he slouches down when he laughs

hunching down until all that you see

is the top of his maroon beanie


his brassy brown hair peeks out

and brushes close to his brilliantly blue eyes

set apart by the smattering of freckles

barely brushed across his nose


he carelessly lets white earbuds hang from around his neck

and absently flips a coin from hand to hand


he wears a faded braided bracelet on his left wrist

that once could have been green and yellow

and his t-shirt has band names listed across


~he’s in his own  world



blue hair.

i met a girl and boy with blue hair


the girl smiled lightly

and tossed her pastel blue hair over her shoulder

with the practiced grace of an actress born


the boy’s eyes smiled behind his yellow-tinted turtle shell glasses

as his midnight blue hair draped over his red checked jacket

and rainbow pattern peeked through the holes in his jeans


~i think i want blue hair now too



i eat dried pineapples

twist my fingers tightly in my hair

and tell myself that he is just a boy


but i know that he is more than that to me

i thought i knew.

i thought i knew word abuse

i thought i knew when to walk away

i thought i knew how to not care

i thought i knew that you would never be right for me

i thought i knew who i was

i thought i knew that you were just kidding

i thought i knew i could stand on my own

i thought i knew that you were nice

i thought i knew you


can i ever call myself smart again?

we were getting drunk on fanta

having boy inspired talks

letting the heart drawings on our hands

be covered with brownie batter


~ i can’t describe of the heady feeling of finding the right people 

i never pictured her as a mean girl.

i wish i could say that she is nice

and that our friendship is wonderful

but that would just be a lie


because with her nose pierced

blue flower headband

raised eyebrow look

i never pictured that she was anything

but my new best friend


yet here i am again

with fragmented words that she tossed my way

with careless and controled anger

trying to slap a smile on my face

after every jab

and barbed laugh


and i tell myself that it is me

and it couldn’t possibly be her


but every new day

has her pushing me a little bit farther

towards the edge of a cliff


and i feel powerless


because this girl

who abandons me every day for the populars

takes every oppurtunity to drag me down

can’t be anything but mean


~ the girl who covers poison with honey and acts like it is ok




pretty girl.

if i was asked when i finally felt pretty

i would say it was when

i was fourteen

swimming in a lake during a rainstorm

wearing a pair of running shorts

and a see-through white shirt

laughing in the face of the fear

that i was ugly


~fear will always be uglier

the boy in biology.

his brown hair is always neatly combed

and his shirt buttoned nice

but his parents don’t take

the same care of him


they forget to take him

to school in the morning

and they argue all the time


but biology boy doesn’t let it show


he makes everyone laugh,

and gives minty smelling hugs

and sings horribly along to Hamilton.


~i hug biology boy every chance i get

the girl who hated yellow.

i met a girl with a yellow water bottle

and we made up a special hug


we ate stale Cajun peas

drank watered down Gatorade

and laughed at all the sadness

we thought we had conquered


i never saw the girl with the yellow water bottle again


~ i don’t think i can ever like yellow

i can’t figure out who she is.

she wears vintage texas t-shirts

and jeans with bell bottoms


her hair has mini braids

from the boy in biology

and her glasses show jade eyes

with more brown in the right


and then some days

she wears a navy zip-up jackets

and asks for for  $1.25 for coke

and i question if i know her

that well

at all


~she is such a wonderful mystery


the girl who smiles too much.

i sit with a girl in french

who says things in a faux southern accent

and braids my hair tightly to my scalp


and i see how she smiles

and adds in a laugh while saying

how her parents will miss her birthday

for the third time


she smiles while talking lightly

of promises they never kept

and i think that she smiles so much

because she is afraid the girl she would see

in the mirror if she didn’t


~her smile is too sad to be real


12pt inky girl.

i made a girl

out of 12pt. font


and the girl

smiled with her white teeth

and threw her blank inky hair



…………………..and suddenly i didn’t know

the girl

who i had called my best friend


then she ran away

grasping my string of inky black words

right from the back of my throat


and that girl i made out of 12pt font

brushed me by as she left

and laughed sweetly


because she knew i was powerless

to stop her


~she was my friend before she was a word thief