everything but.

my fingertips tremble with fear and confusion
i turn from the thing i'm scared of --
but not because i'm brave
not because i'm brave

but because i'm everything but.

i just pretend i'm turning to look at something,
but i know the truth
and it's undoing the seams of my steadiness
i'm afraid i'm afraid i'm afraid

i find that with every corner i take,
every where i look
it's hiding behind the curtains
and in the green hedges

and in the things i dearly love.

i'm afraid and i don't know what to do

october & me

and with every huff that October threw,
i found myself inhaling with pain.

the trees refused to turn yellow,
refused to let go and just be.

and i realized that it was
just the same with me.

it's hard to change and release
the things you just got to know.

it'll never be the same,
October said to me.

and we both sighed and creaked
in the coming winter signs.

to love and to let go.

I fell in love with the idea of you.

The idea of something beyond truth,
beyond reality.

But oh, what I think I loved most
was that I could let you go.

To love and to let go.

That's something I could get used to.

xx i wish the best for you. 

Untitled

I'm a street-sweeper
a collector of things thrown away
lost seconds of bravery
rivers of unspent tears
old paper worn by weather

and pinky promises. 

But still through all of that
I'm so scared of losing you
in that mess.

|| the words in my journal ||