Like living

I think I was sitting shotgun

beside the girl with the leg hair and the dance moves,

listening to a song I wished I knew the name of.

It may have been the killers or maybe the 1975

but to be honest, it didn’t matter.

I had these friends by the hour,

and I knew which one was theirs.

We explored the city and the parts

of each other’s minds that had yet to leak from our lips.

We wandered along the Mississippi, and clinked

our raw clams with horseradish.

That was the night the stars were hung

in Baton Rouge

and I realized that people can feel

the way coffee tastes.

Like silk in my veins

Like a new day, the beginning



I always thought about what a dork he was and then I had butterflies to see him and I didn’t know why. And then we were together and it felt like silk and he was laughing into my mouth and I remembered. I couldn’t stop smiling because whenever I looked over at him he was looking at me like I was one of the million tourist attractions I saw. Like he would only have that moment to look at me so he better look long and hard now and smile while he’s at it. And so, once again, I find myself writing. Sure, because I like to write, but mostly because I am afraid to forget.

La Merienda


so hopelessly drunk

On these cotton candy clouds

And your cheesecake.

It’s your fault,

That I’m smiling out my balcony

Thinking bittersweetly about airplanes.

Malditos for taking me away from you

Benditos for bringing me here to begin with

And they always leave a mark, those damned airplanes

A zig-zag across my heart

asi es la vida

Sitting on my bed here in Spain, looking out my balcony doors. The sky is ombre blue and there is not a cloud to be seen. People walk their dogs and push their grocery carts, and I watch them as I jam to whatever song comes to mind. I’ve got papers to write, assignments to complete, but they cannot put a damper on my mood. I think of my time here, and of the adventures ahead of me. I’m so excited to get home and see my family, and I know that I will have an incredible time celebrating my return in Bowling Green. And then I will depart again and head to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where I will spend the summer sweating and subtracting on a research team. Louisiana will be quite the adventure as well, and when I return it won’t be long until I move into my first big girl apartment. I HAVE SO MUCH TO LOOK FORWARD TO, and yet I wish time would stop right here. Spain is incredible, and the thought of leaving is petrifying. My days on this bed, looking out this window, are oh so numbered. I’ve still got gelato to eat, boys to kiss, and sunsets to capture. I’ve still got Italy to see, and unfortunately final exams to complete. I am so happy right here, and perpetually astounded by how good my God is. However, that is no surprise. Such is God, such is life.

On He(art)break

It seems that I am frequently torn between needing to forget and clawing at the memories. What a stressful predicament it is, though it helps to be here, to create this art. It helps, but it is not enough. I love you, poetry, but you are not enough. And I think that I’m on the brink of something. I think that I need and the world needs an new art, an impossible one. One in which we can simultaneously forget him and remember with bliss the way that we loved so foolishly. One in which we can curse his name enough to regain sanity without forgetting the sea that used to escape his eyes. We have a habit of always forgetting and never appreciating, and this new art is to help us do both. And to keep us also from the combustion that is the less common, more destructive case. I was too hesitant to forget, too quick to appreciate. I began to self-destruct


It’s not that I love him.

All it is

is that he tells me about himself, his life here

and he watches me

and smiles.

It didn’t take love,

but that he kisses me

and I can feel his passion.

Luke-warm always spits itself out,

and although I may not let his affection

escape down my throat,

at least it is warm and cozy in my mouth