message
poetry
prose
tulips
history
theme


marisol. 14. ca. aries. dragon.
it's raining smoke tonight and the sky
is knocking on my windowsill.

the world may mean nothing to you, but you mean everything to the world.


8:26 pm     1 note
August 19 2014

I’m sitting on the rooftop, sweat sticking to my thighs like a lover’s never fleeting memory, a lingering kiss on a white summer afternoon. The sidewalk is quiet. In just a few hours, these roads will be covered in cars’ rubber tracks, sleepy teenagers crawling on their bee-stung knees, and paramedics alarming the neighbors with a nervous gasp and a gray trail of exhaust. By the time I wake up, they will be running back home, mouths tingling with lust as if they’ve been kissed by butterflies, hearts synchronized in a familiar drumbeat. And I’ll be here on my parents’ rooftop, watching the sun drown in shades of peach and violet, fading into a family of stars, whispering a soft-spoken song in my ear like a secret.


6:59 pm     2 notes
August 17 2014

A Poet’s Hands

Ever since I learned how to speak poetry
I’ve been spending long
inordinate hours at the public library
reading the spines of books
rather than reading what’s written
inside of them. 

This is what being misplaced feels like.

I somehow tricked myself into thinking
that writing letters to strangers
and tucking them safely inside the clothes
they sell at the mall is poetic because
that’s all I seem to be doing lately.

And everywhere I go
I’m leaving traces of myself:
in the seat between 
the two strangers at the empty airport,
in the silence they refused to break,
in the words they could 
have said.

I’ve turned myself into a metaphor
and I lost my way home.


1:28 pm     2 notes
August 12 2014

tonight i’m going to read the history of love, eat white chocolate chips, flip through my course catalog, and get psyched for high school.


10:12 pm
August 11 2014


6:40 pm     37,547 notes
August 10 2014

this is how i feel alive
i pretend to be confident by eating alone in a crowd of people i just met. they’re all drinking from water bottles and all i can hear is the crunch crunch crunch between my teeth. i tell myself the salty flavor on my tongue is the sound of leaves. silly me. my orthodontist told me i’m supposed to avoid chips and chocolate, but i eat them anyway because i’m a rebel. i write six paragraphs when my english teacher told us to write five. i smile and keep my mouth shut. i force myself to sing loudly and terribly in a street full of grinning teenagers just so i can write about it later. carpe diem my ass, i told them. they threw their heads back and laughed.


3:34 pm     1 note
August 10 2014

Bury my heart in your skin to thaw.
My feet are competing in a race
to prove they’re faster
than my head.

Don’t be dismayed
when you find yourself
rooted to the
ground.


9:32 pm     3 notes
August 8 2014