making meaning
Vancouver, May 2016:
a late spring night,
watching the city lights
reflect on the water
discovering
a tall dark stranger
$2 soft-serve from McDonald’s for dinner
his kiss tastes like vanilla
Once I get home,
I’m watching my phone
waiting
refreshing
waiting
alone
nothing.
once again, it meant nothing
I roll over in my borrowed bed
Book a bus ticket for this weekend instead
What does it matter?
This isn’t my home
I set off to the next place
alone
mornings are good times to travel
because everything is new & full of potential
conquering the world in the dark and unknown
is only okay when you’re traveling home
January 2018 – Costa Rica
The light disappeared slowly, then all at once over the horizon. It was like in the middle of the day when all I wanted was for the sun to go away because it was too strong and I didn’t want to burn but then it was gone
and I’m only left with stars
well, the fluorescent lights that replace them in the city night
that I thought were so pretty from afar
but they aren’t warm like you are
July 2017 – California
Some things are better from afar
So they can’t hurt you where you are
Fire, stars
My love, romanticized for my art
These things that seem to burn so bright, oh-so warm & full of light
Might just be more than you bargained for
To add another log
You stuck your hand in the flame
I had to be gone
You had me to blame
You burned yourself trying to keep us alight
While my flame had moved on to greener pastures last night
//
God, I wish I believed you when you told me this was my home
20 april 2018
I love rainy mornings
the kind where I can stay under covers
singing softly
about sweet things
If you were here,
I would nestle my head on your shoulder
we’d speak softly
about sweet things
in that place between sleeping and waking
where your breath is so peaceful
and the world is so silent
that I’m finally calm
so safe in your arms
But until then, I’ll write
soft words
about you
the sweetest thing of all
//
“I wanna know,
have you ever seen the rain?”
Colectivo 15, 27 marzo 2017
“I want something just like this”
//
The sun is setting over the skyscrapers of the city, silhouetted in different shades of pink. Still astounded by the underside of the bridge, so intricately painted with colors and patterns, though nothing can rival the sky at this hour
Every time I come into Buenos Aires, it just makes me want to come back. It’s like every city I’ve ever lived in is subconsciously competing with all the others, but this one might just come out on top.
Where you wanna go? How much you wanna risk?
It’s all so enough. Not to say that there’s nothing I could change, but I feel so happy. Baby victories, making my own life here. That’s the cool thing about losing it all and creating from scratch – when you do it right, it’s so rewarding to know you did it.
There was a time, maybe 5 hours into the drive home, when I wasn’t sure if color existed in the outside world anymore. Every expanse of the ground was white, the trees I sketched outside the window as black and lifeless as the asphalt we drove on, the sky colored an unending grey. The road seemed endless to home, where all the work I had ignored all weekend awaited
It wasn’t until I looked back inside the car and saw the magenta of Freedom’s sweater, took out my headphones and heard the laughter of my now-friends who had kept me so warm all weekend, that I really believed the world had color again.
April 2017
Pins & University
//
twirling under the first warm rain of the season, alone and free as a bird
I laugh as I take off my flats and jump in the puddles that are already forming
if only playing in this early summer storm was enough
it would let me forget
but how many times do I have to spin and how fast do I have to run to get away from the memories of the boy I love
who, after all this, doesn’t think I’m enough
But I’ll never be enough for someone who hates who they are
thunderstorms surround me
and the sharp gravel of the city streets crunches underneath my bare feet
my blue suede skirt twirls in the purple wind; the grey-indigo sky turbulent
As the wind becomes a roar and the caress a downpour, I follow the yellow lights back home. Hoping and dreading, knowing you’ll be there, too —
No matter where I go or what I do, I can’t seem to get away from you
February 2017
“This Town” – Niall Horan / “Suburbia” – Troye Sivan
//
after feeling it all fall apart with the boy upstairs, visions of Heathers dance in my head
as I lie in the darkness, alone in bed.
So scared of losing the God I used to idealize
I know I’m supposed to draw, or sleep, but all I can do is wait and play these two songs on repeat
Snow falls on the cold city outside my window
where everyone I care about
is out
without me
Night lights
blue black and purple-grey clouds
obscure the illusory love with fog and doubt
Nostalgia embedded in every street of the blue neighborhood in California I used to inhabit
Was it ever real? The love Lana sings about? The one that matters, the one that I so badly want to feel
I always think I have it
until a month goes by, and it’s no longer ride-or-die.
they were never what I wanted; it’s the idea I’ve always been in love with.
desperately mourning something that never was
March 16, 2017
It’s dark in your bed, but outside the window there’s city lights
Our hands clasped
On the edge of a cliff, I’m holding on for dear life
What does it mean? What matters?
And love? It’s alright
Sharing soft words I didn’t know you knew,
You ask me things I don’t let myself think in the daylight
thoughts 