I want to be brave for you

I want to smile when it rains

I want to answer when you call.

I don’t want to live in fear,

it’ll be the death of me

but where do we go from here?

I’m trying,

but I’m tired of trying

and getting no results.

I want to be brave

like I was when I was ten.

I want to feel the wind against my skin

and not cower away.

I want to feel

again

I’m done with this complacency,

this everlasting loneliness.

it’s like they turned the lights out

and I can’t find the switch.

I want to be brave

for myself

so I can say I beat the demons in my head

I don’t want to be brave

for anyone else

because if I’m doing this for you

and you leave

what’s left to fight for?

I want to be strong

for myself

so I can look back

and smile when it rains.

at home in the mountains

It rained on the day we went up to the mountains. It rained and we stayed in our car for the most part, eating takeout from a nearby restaurant. We planned to eat it by the waterfall, but our sandwiches would’ve been soggy. We sat parked on a cliff-side, overlooking the mountains, the greens and reds and oranges and yellows of the treetops swaying gently with the breeze. We sat silent for a while as we took in the overwhelming feeling, the largeness of it all. We ate our takeout, but we didn’t feel worthy to be there in all the beauty. This moment was bigger than us. And I remember you said quietly and defiantly, “Someday, this will be home.”

5 am

It’s 5 am

the rain is pouring

coming down heavy

enveloping my sadness

as I lay here

unable to sleep

and I wonder

I wonder what you’re doing

I know you were always

one to be up at this hour.

And I feel closer to you

than I ever did when we

were together.

Maybe it’s better this way

maybe I’m happier like this:

love,

but from a distance.

You can’t hurt me from here.

Lazy Day | Flash Fiction

The rain out my window holding me captive in my bed until it lets up. I toss and turn, but can’t bring myself to pull down the covers, afraid to introduce myself to the cold that is Not My Blankets. So, I pull them up to my shoulders, curl up into a ball, and fall back asleep once again. Time passes and suddenly it’s afternoon. Did I really spend all morning in bed? The rain has let up, but now I’m just groggy. A wave of uselessness takes over me and I force myself up.

I brew a cup of coffee and figure out ways to salvage this day. The grogginess never seems to disappear as I scroll through social medias and notifications from my lengthy sleep. I spend the rest of the day yawning, cursing myself for sleeping in, and not doing much of anything. But it’s good to have days like today, I reassure myself as I drift off to sleep again that night.


where did the sun go

Sitting in a dimly lit room,

the light went out a week ago

and it’s rainy and foggy today.

The rain carries from outside

to deep within my soul,

creating puddles in my chest,

a type of flooding only possible

when it’s rained relentlessly for weeks.

Doctors and meteorologists 

don’t know when the rain will stop,

but they assure us it will.

It’s a strange comfort when

you know the rain will end,

but you have no idea when.

It’ll come unexpected,

you won’t be sure at first.

“Is that the sun

peering through the clouds?”

And it is. 

And it is beautiful.