“I remember when I was the only sin you liked to kiss.”

He reminds me of the shadow between silences.

I want to separate writing from heartbreak but I don’t know how.

This brown body is not an explosion- it is light and honey.

Your heartbeat is a holy thing.

How do you mourn the loss of someone who was never yours to begin with?

I want to be something to pray for but I don’t know how to be.

And what am I but the smallest of footnotes in the universe’s everlasting memoir?

This country collects too many tongues, until our only language is silence.

I don’t know how to let you out without destroying us both.

Seek refuge in the space between my bones.

Somewhere inside my throat lives your ache.

I like to trace the ghosts of your fingers on the back of my hand. They read- I don’t know how to hold without you.

I pocket grief and it beckons me like a lover.

My silhouette is an ocean, your lips a sailor.

There is a calmness in not knowing.

Every beauty mark, a country to roam. Every stretch mark, a river to cross.

We break ourselves to fit better into all the wrong hearts.

Forever seems dreadful without a love to fill it with.

We are all broken things. But there’s so much beauty in those cracks. And so much strength in those places we’ve mended.

How a love ends should never define your next one.

Sometimes forever is kept in a heartbeat of a second.

No love defines us as much as the losses we have made in its name.

To set free my ideas while the world was still building a cage was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.

Memory, Sweet and deadly Broken and lovely Loved and lonely.