29th July/ 73

I miss you so much. I’ve been 

thinking about you a lot lately, 

thinking about how having

you here would change everything,

how having you here would 

make me a different person,

one who doesn’t wear the

stain of grief on her soul, and

I keep wondering how you would

react to life I have, to the panic

that surrounds me, to the

things I keep trying to do, the

things I keep failing at and

I don’t know- never got enough

time to find out what could

have been, never got time to

figure out what two parents

feel like and now, now I miss

you so much it hurts on the

best of days, is debilitating on

the rest; I don’t even remember

what your voice sounds like.

Don’t even remember what I talked 

to you about, my memories 

are flitting away like migrating

birds and I’m just sitting here,

watching them leave me, while

wishing, praying, hoping, that 

they’ll be back. That you’ll be back.


on not being able to escape you/ 72

Whenever I shuffle my Spotify 

library, every second song 

reminds me of you, reminds

me how no matter how

hard I try, you’ll always be

around, because the songs

are still good even if this

love isn’t, and whenever I

see you in the hallway I 

can feel my heart skip a beat, 

but it isn’t in a good way, more 

in a way that makes me want to

dig a hole in the ground and

crawl into it until the storm 

passes- now, you make me feel

like I’m falling but somehow, 

despite that, I still expect

you to catch me. Still expect

this not to lead to visceral 

longing; after all this, I still

expect it not to hurt; but the

expectations don’t matter 

because I can’t escape you, can’t

escape the trace you’ve left 

on my life- you cover all my 

memories like a layer of 

dust in an abandoned house,

and I don’t know where to 

start cleaning, don’t know

how to start forgetting, don’t

know how to start escaping

from the death trap this love is.

letting go/ 71

Every day is still a 

struggle, your face is 

inked onto my memory 

and I can’t seem to forget 

your voice; you haunt

me no matter where I am.

Today, all I could think of

was that night in the 

park, all I could 

remember was how

good this used to be, and

now my heart plummets 

when I look at you, every 

word you say a pinprick

on my pincushion heart,

and I don’t know how to

stop hurting. Today, all

I could think about 

was your hands on my 

waist, mine around your

neck, all I could think

about was the good 

times, but those are 

over now, and I’m not 

sure how to let go.

sadness/ 70

The truth is, I’m not sad. 

I’m not sad that this ended, no,

sadness doesn’t begin to cover it,

the truth is, every time I see you,

I can feel my heart shatter in my 

chest, I feel an ache within

my very bones for something 

more, for something less, for

something that isn’t so undefined,

and I know this isn’t about you,

or me, no, it spans the entire 

universe, maybe it was just destiny,

but it still hurts , still feels like

falling ten stories down, only

this time, you’re not going to 

catch me; but I’m not sad. I’m

not sobbing my eyes out for 

a boy, even if it’s you, but I’m 

still broken, still a bit hurt, still

feeling like the only thing I 

want is your arms around me;

I’m not sad. But the truth is,

I’m not over it.

might as well/ 69

You dig your nails into your 

wrist until crescent shaped 

smiles decorate every inch

of your butterfly hands, and 

you try your best not to cry,

try your best to keep it all

inside, try to sew up the

sadness inside of you so 

that everyone else thinks 

youre fine, but you never 

succeed, never manage to 

convince the world you’re 

alright, never manage to 

look sane enough to blend

into the crowd, so you lift the

knife and imagine it slicing 

through your bone- if you can’t 

blend in, you might as well

bathe yourself in red, you might

as well feel the pain you 

want to, you might as well 

flutter in and out of consciousness

until you finally reach where 

you belong- if you can’t be

normal, you might as well die.

regret/ 68

You say you regret what happened,

say that you understand it was 

a mistake, say you’re sorry, you’re

sorry, you’re sorry- like that’ll help

me trust anyone again, like that’ll

make this situation better, the thing

is, I don’t want your regret, nor 

your pity, I don’t want to know how

you feel, and I don’t want your 

excuses, because no matter 

what you say, it still happened and

you still did it- willingly. Knowingly.

You still chose to take what I gave

and make it into a joke, into a

story to tell, you still chose to 

cheapen the moment and I don’t

care about your regret. You can 

keep it- all I want is a time machine.


For once, I’m the one that’s 

heartbroken, I’m the one who 

can feel the weight of the

world slowly crushing me, I’m

the one who feels humiliated at

best, shattered at worst; For once,

I’m not the one at fault, not the

one who did anything wrong, just

the one who was left behind, just

the one who can’t get you out of 

my mind- I’m the one pining

for love already lost. I’m the one

wishing for a version of you I’m no 

longer sure exists, I’m the one who

was naive enough to think that

you were good, that you had

changed, that you were worth this

pain, for once, I’m the fool, and

I preferred it when you were.

pauses/ 66

I see you everywhere I go now- in

the pauses. I see you in between

the words I read, hear you between 

the songs I sing, feel you between

the footsteps I take; you’re there

in every space, every pause, every

breath I take and I’m not sure 

when that happened, not sure 

whether I woke up one morning

and everything was different, or

whether it was a quieter type

of change, like night to day, whether

it was the way dawn approaches- 

once I told you that you make me 

feel like I’m not falling,

and I guess that’s true, because

whenever I look at you, my 

entire world comes to a standstill,

whenever I look at you, gravity 

slows down till I’m floating

mid air, wondering how life

got so good, wondering how

I fell so in love that some days

the only reason I eat is you, that’s

the thing about love- it’s not 

all consuming, and it doesn’t

incinerate me, instead it feels

like a piece of home I carry 

with me in my heart, a reminder

every time I take a step back, that

I’m not as alone as I was; a 

constant beat at the back of

my head that I hear in every silence,

that punctuates my every sentence,

that’s the thing about love,

it never leaves you lonely.

escape/ 65

So you kiss the boy and you stop

thinking about drowning, stop

overthinking for a split second,

but then he touches your waist

and suddenly you’re aware of how

big it is, how wide is is, how even

though he’s kissing you, he 

still thinks you’re fat, how even

though you’re kissing him, you

still think you’re fat, but then his

hand moves higher and your

mind is an old television set, 

your thoughts are being 

scrambled- all you can hear

is static, so you kiss him, and

you forget about shrinking for

a while and expand in his arms,

until you’re almost a world, 

until you’re almost a girl not

afraid of her own body, of 

her own mind, but it never

lasts; you used the boy as 

an escape route, as a panic 

room, as a sign that things 

don’t always have to be

twisted, but the boy always

has to leave, and you always

have to return to reality- that’s

the thing about escape, it

never lasts forever, that’s the 

thing about the boy; you can 

kiss him now but what happens

when he leaves and you 

still want to shrink? That’s the

thing about running away, 

somehow, you always end up

back where you started.

seasons/ 64

It’s the middle of summer now, 

but nothing has changed, I 

attend funerals like they’re 

parties, receive bad news like

they’re just the rent I pay for 

living, look cancer in the face 

and then look away- 

Read the entire poem on Vagabond City!