Poetry
Since I’ve really become serious about pursuing a career in writing, there’s this thing I do where I think about what my memoir would be like. Specifically, if I had to write it this second. When I think about it, I start to feel like it would be so ridiculously uneventful that it ends up
Oftentimes I’ve found myself looking for home in other people, people who are so immersed in everything else that they have nothing to give me. So, I’ve realized that my only true shelter will only be me, I’ll reside only in myself; I’ve stopped demanding a home from others. My bones are home, to the
This poem was completely spur of the moment; an attempt to see what would happen if I put pen to paper and just wrote about something in a metaphorical way. In this case, it is about life, the way we live, what we’re doing, etc. On top of this — although it’s not literal —
I wrote this poem for all the people who are tired of finding themselves meeting tragic ends in relationships — not just romantic relationships, but friends and family too. In my opinion, when you have a relationship with someone that you really enjoy, there are only two outcomes: to stay in your life until death
Crushes are the most annoying thing to have, especially when nine out of 10 times your crush is crushing on someone else. I have had many a conversations with my crushes, and they have all ended badly, after I messed something up; this poem is just a summary or a run-down of what usually happens
If there is anything I’ve come to understand, it’s that we cause more problems for ourselves than we do happiness. It’s hard to turn away sometimes and it’s hard to build ourselves upwards instead of downwards. Even if it is unwittingly. This poem was written for all the times we may have dragged ourselves to
This is a poem describing the struggles between my writing and my identity that I have had to deal with for the past few months. My ability to write things down, the ability to vent and release through my language is something holy to me, and when it is difficult, I feel like a hostage in
Imagine a flower sitting on a window sill, Waiting to be watered with fresh water; A pot is placed over it, and what comes down is nothing fresh but toxic. Toxicity makes its way through the roots of the flower, And it could no longer nourish; This is you when you stay glued to toxic
TW: assault/abuse This poem is an ode to all of those affected by assault/abuse/misconduct. We are here for you. and we believe you. You and your experiences are valid. I. Harvey Weinstein pulls out his anatomy as a gross display of dominance over an 11-year-old. She laughs a nervous laugh. I read somewhere that
Whenever I’m staying away from home, I always have trouble sleeping in a bed that’s not my own. The lack of familiarity, the distance from the places I know, and sometimes not even being around the people I share a house with is enough to make me feel homesick. My house is incredibly important to
Months ago, Emily Van Duyne wrote a piece for the Literary Hub. In her piece, Duyne mentioned a “literary trope: Plath the ‘crazy girl’, and the ‘crazy girls’ who love her, all of whom are seen as young, starry eyed fools in need of scolding”. Whenever I reveal to anybody that I admire Plath’s work,
