Posts
-
December 20th, 2024
“You don’t strike me as the kind of person to have depression,”
“That’s because I pretend,”
“Oh.”
“Writing is my coping mechanism, and without it I’m literally a mess,”
-
A Mess of Jumbled-Up Sentences
Everything’s blurry
But I can’t stop writing
If I take my pen off the paper I’ll break,
I’ll shatter
I stop writing my heart will bleed rivers of words,
Words I can never say aloud
-
Fall Forgetfulness/That Was It (Part Three)
It’s been so long
Since I’ve seen your face
That I’m starting to forget
The color of your eyes
And the way you smile
But I’ll always remember
The way you cared
-
That Was It (Part Two)
When I first met you
I never thought you’d become this important to me
Yet now I find myself
Wishing you never had to leave
There was a quote I read in a book a few years ago
-
That Was It (Part One)
That was it.
May 15th, 2024
Our last memory
That was it.
The last time
I’ll ever see your face
The last time we’ll ever talk in-person
That was it.
-
Clinging To Sunshine
I’ve kept every card I’ve ever received
For as long as I can remember
People fade in and out of your life
Eventually lost in the past, forgotten
I read their letters after sunset
Loves
-
MY RIGHTS
"You want your rights?"
"Come and get it," said the snake.
It was wrapped around a tree
in the confines of his tail,
a paper labeled "YOUR RIGHTS."
I stared up at the snake,
-
Take Me Home
Two years ago, my home was Beijing
Even though I moved away ten years ago.
Two years ago, I longed for inclusion
for that tingle that made my skin
burn bright with belonging.
You ask me where is my home.
-
-
I Have A Voice
The erosion of rights towards marginalized groups feels like a personal attack on the values of equality, fairness, and justice that have importance to me.
-
Young Love
“Look at her,”
There was a lovestruck girl obsessively drawing hearts on her note card
“look at past you.”
Sincere love flowed from her fingertips.
She believed she was loved.
“Do you think she's dumb?”
-
They are all the same
You left dead flowers at my grave,
as if they were all the same.
Most leave bouquets,
even though they will slowly die,
just like me til I made it to the afterlife.
