When I Love You Most

When the streetlights hang low and that black shirt fits you just right…

is when I love you most.

Because the streetlights, they know our drunken dances by heart.

They know our darkest secrets and deepest kisses.

They guide us home where I’ll love you until the lights fade and the rest of the world rises for the sun.

And when you wake up and light a cigarette while you read your favorite book, is when I love you most.

I remember the night that the streetlights went out and all we could see were stars and I tried to write a poem about the universe and you pretended to love it like you love your favorite book.

But the lights flickered back on and the stars disappeared and for awhile you did too.

And I remember the night you came back and I lit your favorite book on fire and you used that black shirt that fits you just right to put it out.

You still wear that shirt for me even with the smoke stain on the sleeve.

You told me that while you were away you had a dream of someone else’s hands on me beneath the streetlights.

So they led you home where you found me with a bottle of your favorite wine reading your favorite book.

I was crying because I didn’t understand a word of it and you didn’t have the patience to explain.

That night I loved you least.

Because even though I knew all of your favorite things you still walked into the world of the sun, and left me wondering if the damn streetlights would remind you of the stars and me.

And when you came home you didn’t yell at me for starting the fire, and you didn’t fight back.

You just put it out and looked at me with the eyes that I love the most.

I wanted to start riots and I wanted to see you burn but the next morning I found you smoking a cigarette while you read my poem about the universe, as if it were your favorite book.

And that is when I knew you loved me most.


The first thing I noticed about him was how warm his hands are. Warm and gentle. He caught me staring at his hands today. He hid them, as if he was embarrassed. I wish I could have told him that his hands were all I thought about. I think I might be addicted. People look at addiction as a problem, a secret for the dark. But when it comes to him I’m not ashamed to admit that I can’t function without him. If only he knew about the shock that reverberates through my veins whenever his hand lightly touches my back, letting me know that he’s there. Oh God that’s the best feeling, knowing he’s there.

It’s hard not to lean into him when he’s standing next to me. He doesn’t seem to notice when I do. I wish he would. I wish his presence was enough. But I’m always wanting more. More touch, more quick glances, more sly smiles. I never know what he means by those smiles. They’re brief and curious and beautiful. And they drive me mad with wonder. I wonder about him a lot. I wonder what his hands have done, what they’ve created. I wonder how many hearts crumbled to pieces at those smiles. I wonder who those fingers have touched. Thinking of the girls he’s loved hurts because when he leans towards me I can’t breathe. And I can’t stop wishing those hands were on me, warming me up in that gentle way of his. Maybe I’ll spend the rest of forever wondering about him. Maybe I’ll learn to make that enough. But until then I’ll steal every glance, touch, and smile that I can. Because what’s the point in loving someone if you don’t enjoy those little things?

When I Leave You Behind

Leave me here with the birds and the trees. And I’ll sing a haunting tune that reminds me of you. You pulled me drunkenly through the quiet streets, promising to always kiss me goodbye, even if you were mad. We’d make it through the door and collapse beside each other on the bed, out of breath with our arms touching. We would stare up at the cracks on the ceiling, wondering if that’s what heart break looked like. Your fingers would find mine and I’d pretend not to notice while you kissed my skin until your soft mouth met mine. And then the sheets would wrap endlessly around us while our bodies created an ecstasy no drug could ever provide. I fell in love with you during one of those nights.

I loved you long before you admitted that you loved me too. It was cold and we were curled up on the couch next to the fireplace, your gray eyes reflecting the sky outside. You whispered to me what I had been waiting to hear and I kissed you until the sun set and the fire was a pile of embers. And when you got a tattoo of a rose as a tribute to me, I cried. Because when I saw it stained on your skin I saw a piece of me that would always be with you. But not even tattoos can last forever. I bet that you’ll come up with some insignificant story when your kids ask about it. God forbid they ever know that you once told me about the way my eyes used to bring you out of your drunken stupor while you shouted promises I knew you’d never keep.

Those empty promises are why I’m here with my toes hanging over the ledge, waiting for the courage only you could give me. I bet you’ll fake a laugh when they tell you what I did. You’ll say I was always dramatic and you’ll be ashamed that you ever loved me. Then they’ll tell you that I had a rose clutched in my fist. The same fist you used to kiss when we would fight and I tried to hit you but never could. And then you’ll shed a tear for my eyes and write a tortured tune and sing it to a pretty girl who would take my place in your arms. I bet you’ll think of me everyday, especially in spring when the roses bloom and you’re stumbling home in the dark without my hand to guide you. You’ll keep a picture of me, as worn out as your tattoo, and look at it when you’re feeling sad, because I was the only one who could make you laugh during your darkest days.

I hope she’ll be jealous because she’s not me. Because she’ll know I meant the world to you, even if you never tell her that. You’ll promise her that you never think of my eyes and that your tattoo was a stupid thing you did when you were young. But before you go to sleep you’ll see me, and you’ll smile to yourself because I loved you more than anything in this world. And baby, I hope that one day you’ll know why I left you behind.

I wish you knew that when my feet brought me over the ledge I was thinking of you the entire time. I wish you knew that when I broke like the bottle I once threw at your head, it was the best feeling in the world. I didn’t hurt anymore. Nothing hurt. I am no longer someone who lost the most precious thing in the world. The doctor’s words are no longer on repeat in my mind and I don’t have to look into your eyes and know that I put that sadness there. I don’t have to live with the fact that my body turned against me and the tiny life inside of me. And baby, I know you’ll find someone who can give you what you need. Because after all, I’m just a discolored blemish on your skin, a love that was beautiful until the roses died and I was left there with the birds and the trees, singing a haunting tune that reminded me of you.

Eros – Short Story

I should have known he’d be the one. I should have known his eyes weren’t blue, but black, and his voice wasn’t inviting, but compelling. I should have known he’d be the one to kill me. But his hands were soft yet strong, and when his fingers slid across my skin I thought there was no better ecstasy. I was lost in those deceitful eyes with no intention of finding my way out. When he told me he loved me, I believed him. The days were made for rolling around in the sheets. The nights made for drinking elixir from dark bottles, consuming the whiteness that made us feel invincible. Flashing neon lights illuminated our dilated eyes and the music carried our bodies until the sun met the horizon and we were stumbling home. I thought he was my home.

I also thought that when his fist broke the glass in a blinding rage, I could fix him. But his wounds weren’t healing and his blood was staining my hands. I learned not to ask him where he went during the night, when I would find myself standing alone in a bathroom with music vibrating through the walls. I would wait for him to come find me and whisk me home, where I would forget he ever left. In the morning I would wake up to a red rose and kisses down my back. I should have known that the roses and laughter wouldn’t last. I should have known that the man I loved had secrets that no human being could hold inside without losing their sanity. Still, I remained by his side to kiss his cheek.

And then the bad days became more than the good, and those flashing lights began to scare me. The alcohol tasted like blood and the white lines gave me nightmares. The nights began to haunt him too and I would awake to his cries with nothing to calm him but stolen pills. And then his bloodshot eyes turned into a dark abyss, and his voice only held menace. His hands weren’t soft anymore and though his fingers would still trace the shadows on my skin, all his touch left behind were burnt trails of hopelessness. He would disappear more and more, claiming he had to. He had to give himself to those who needed it. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time. Not until my last moments with him did I know who he was. He would come home with black and blue tattoos on his knuckles and though I would kiss them and wrap them up he wouldn’t speak about them. He would stare into the broken bathroom mirror and challenge his distorted reflection to end the pain.

And when my bones began to scream at me to run I silenced them by kissing him so deeply that for a moment I thought he had returned to me. I couldn’t deny that my heart had his name scratched into it, and my hands always found his in the dark. And on my last night on earth, I stared up at the moon and hummed my favorite melody until it gave me the strength to walk away. With each step, my eyes burned and my mind spun. And then he was in front of me and I was screaming,

“I’m sorry!”

And he was saying “I forgive you darling.”

I took his face between my hands and whispered, “Baby let me go.”

And that’s when I looked past those sad eyes and saw the desperation only true lovers can feel. His love for me was all he had left. And then he was crying and his fingers tangled in my hair as his lips reminded me of all that we had. I should have known those fingers would tease their way down to my neck. I should have known those hands, once so gentle against my skin, would curl around my throat. All I could think about was how fucked up it was that I still adored his touch. Suddenly I understood. I understood why he was the one.

He was love, and though it was a burden for him, he still said my name as if I was his last hope on this fucked up earth. I understood why he did it. Why he couldn’t let me go. I was the only person who could love him for who he was. I loved him even with the deathly pressure of his fingers against my throat. He hurt himself so he wouldn’t hurt me. Until I betrayed him by trying to break our promises. With my last breath, I felt hatred for those rapacious love crazed people who took piece after piece of him until there was nothing left for himself. Nothing left for me. Eros baby, I’m sorry I let go. I’ll see you soon and we’ll rule the sky.

This is a short story I’ve been working on in my Fiction Writing class. Please let me know what you think, your feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank you! 

My Mind

My mind is a series of never ending thoughts

My mind is capable of creating worlds and galaxies that don’t exist

My mind loves to wander and discover new places

My mind loves to sing when my thoughts get too loud

My mind is a fortress, with sneaky traitorous guards

My mind likes to memorize song lyrics and quotes but can’t seem to remember a single math equation

My mind spends most of its time day dreaming of hot unattainable men instead of paying attention to the expensive ass education I paid for

My mind is a hopeful thing, but some days it just wants to sleep and forget about life struggles

My mind always thinks it’s hungry, even when it’s not

My mind is not understood, by the simple and mundane

My mind has an obsession with the idea of love, though it has never felt it before

My mind likes to wonder about the cruelness of the world

My mind is riddled with anxiety and a bit of sadness

My mind requires medicine to keep it in line when all these damn thoughts take over my body

My mind is a series of vines in a jungle full of dangerous animals and beautiful ruins

My mind loves to get lost in words, finding hope in their meaning

My mind craves to attain the knowledge of scholars and artists

My mind wishes to understand the world

My mind prays for the less fortunate, and makes sure to remind me that other people have troubles too

My mind likes to fight with me about significant life decisions until it’s almost too late to make one

My mind is easily tired My mind inflates sometimes, giving me a sense of false confidence that comes to kick me in the ass later on

My mind has learned from my past experiences but sometimes loves to repeat its mistakes

My mind longs for the days when I was a happy child who wouldn’t let the world bring me down

My mind has a conscience that keeps me from lying, or at least lying well

My mind is always asking for forgiveness, even when it secretly knows that it is not at fault

My mind is a bruised fighter

My mind has dusty corners that have been avoided for the sake of my sanity

My mind sympathizes all too easily with people

My mind sometimes notices the smallest yet most important things, but will also miss some of the most obvious signs in front of me

My mind has dreams that it will hopefully never give up on, no matter how impossible they seem

My mind loves everyone

My mind loves me, although sometimes it tries to deny it

My mind is my own, even when it’s trying to destroy me

I’ve done a piece like this before but I’ve added on to it and revised a bit and I really liked this outcome. It’s a bit vulnerable for me to put this on paper but helps me understand myself and my struggles a little better.


I woke up to your whisper in my ear

My eyes searched the room helplessly for you

My heart was racing at the idea that maybe

Just maybe,

You had come back for me

 You left me desperate when you were my hope

You left me bound with broken promises

And I hated you, I did

I cursed your name and dreamt of pushing you into a black abyss

But every morning I wake up with your voice in my ear

And every day I forgive you for the scars you forgot on my body

And my eyes will always be searching

My mind always wondering

About where you are and why the hell you’re there 


The sound of the raindrops reminds me of a song you used to sing

Made up of melodies that would carry my body to the moon and back

I lie in bed with my hands reaching towards the sky

Trying to find you and pull you back to me

Oh baby, sing to me one more time

I stare up at the stars and wonder which one is you

Do you wonder about me too? 

Every night I dance in the moonlight

Hoping that the white dress you gave me will catch your eye

Now the raindrops touch my skin as your fingers used to

And the thunder creates a gentle hum in my bones just as your voice did

But then the sun finds it’s place in the light of day 

And I’m left with the chill I felt the day they found you

But as long as you keep singing, darling

I’ll find you

Killin Lily Bloody In Some Blood Ink Doom

This is an Anagram assignment I did for class using a phrase from my favorite song, “Me” by The 1975: “I nearly killed somebody”

Irksomely lonely dark

Real bloodied ink

Led bared in my kills

A bided miser look

Embodied loner, Lily

A loomin bedside

No, likely disobeyed

Look, a blinded leer

My bookended sear

My bloody kill is near

Lily, no! I’m real!

Yells in my ear

Near disembody lie

Disrobed like an eel

Real bloodied ink

Killin somebody early

Slayer doom in bed

Bedlam is on, Lily is no more

The Cure

Swinging sweet melodies to birds and trees

Forever dancing with the stars and moon

Looking for a way to cure my disease

Humming a familiar haunting tune

The wind carries my song to you, darling

Hopelessly hoping that you’ll come find me

Before my wounds started their fateful scarring

Dark clouds led you to my place by the sea

Your careful words calming my endless war

Look in my eyes until I surrender

Make sure my demons inside are no more

I found myself in all of your splendor

White flags wave as your loving lips meet mine

I’ll drink your cure for the rest of my life

When The Rain Won’t Stop

I couldn’t help but notice that ever since you came back from that house, the rain won’t stop

Every time you speak the rain beats harder and harder against the roof until I think that the whole house is going to cave in

I wish it would

Because every time I hear you sing I want to drown myself in the water that is pouring down from the sky

The lake is filling up, higher than I ever thought possible

And I find myself dreaming of the day that it will sweep up the house and take me out to sea 

Which is the only thing that can get me far enough from you

The other day while I sat watching the raindrops make pathways on the windows

You came up behind me and your greasy hands touched my hair

And I began to think that not even all of that rain could cleanse you of your filth

Sometimes I stand out in the rain, begging it to give me the sun

But when you’re around the sun no longer exists and the clouds mock my desperation

And though there was a time that I once loved you

The rain followed you home and the sun left without a goodbye

And now all I’m left with is your damn singing

That is out of tune with the beat of those fucking raindrops

And I am sickened by the thought of ever having loved you

Because when the rain won’t stop you know there is no more hope for us