i didn’t realize how much of my childhood i still carry with me.
 how i still feel a jolt of excitement over things like the factory-fresh scent of brand new Pokémon cards, or the sound of Legos clicking into place against the floor. 
how certain memories keep resurfacing because i enjoyed them so much.
 how that child-version of me never left, just learned how to stand quietly in the back of my mind and speak up when it recognizes itself. there’s a certain innocence that com

i want to write a poem about the feeling of trying to pull yourself together after grief. if you’ve experienced grief, you know the moment: when a spark lights a candle to brighten the darkness surrounding your heart— only for grief to blow it out before you can fully see again, reminding you it doesn’t work on your schedule. grief has a habit of asking the same questions over and over and rarely providing the answers:  why does healing feel like one step forward, ten steps b

“ i just don’t get it.  we did everything together and planned the rest of our lives with each other, so how did we go from always  to almost ?... ” -pg 77 of from you, to you   this poem is definitely in my top three favorites from my newest collection. i love it not just because of what it says, but because of how  it says it.  when it comes to my poetry, i try to be creative in the pieces that leave room for creativity, and this one practically begged for it. as you keep r

conversations with my younger self: age 5 hey, 5-year-old me. it’s nice to see you in your room again. i know exactly what you’re feeling right now. i remember how scared you were of the world around you, how you felt safe in your bed because it felt like a giant hug for your small body. i remember how scared you were every time you had to go to sleep, a fear that turned into terror once the lights seeping through your door disappeared and your parents’ murmurs turned into wh