Life Before Death

I ask the crow to sing a happy tune
and flash it’s pretty feathers;
To fly in the aroma of the flowers
watered and tended to by us.
I ask the crow to sing a joyful song
despite it’s cries;
To disregard his image of sorrow,
and instead rejoice in the garden
we rise in the middle of the desert.
I tell the crow of life’s limits
and ask him to celebrate with us
the promise of tomorrow
in the color
of all we’ve grown tall;
To relax
in a beauty too great to overlook.

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Shallow Minds

Writing for me lately has been such a struggle. I can’t seem to write the way I’d like, and definitely cannot find the spark to be proud of them. This one I do not take pride in, but read away. 

Tell me what it’s like to be pretty,
all sugar dolls and lipgloss,
acrylic nails and insta fame.
Tell me what it’s like to seek validation
from a group of simple minds
and legal stalkers.
Tell me what it’s like to be goals
with a face full of make believe,
and a head full of lies.
Tell me what it’s like to be you,
choking on the silence
between the likes.
Tell me what it’s like to dress up
for compliments
because I’m not shallow enough
to find out for myself.

Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, available on amazon!

Shine Bright

I have a craving for the stars,
I want to taste the sky,
lick the sprinkles from the night,
and digest the beauty in their shine.
Will they help me look to the light,
brighter sides of life,
or make my skin glow,
almost as bright as the moon?
I want to sample the tiny fires,
to illuminate my eyes
and teach a solid heart
how to glow in the dark.

What I Was Too Afraid to Say

When our eyes locked in the crowd,
my heart forgot it was keeping me
alive, stopping and skipping like a
scratched CD.


Your eyes hold a vibrancy that makes
my lungs freeze mid-breath, so intense,
I cannot hold the contact or I may suffocate.


I want to count your freckles, to star-gaze
in the galaxies they create, just so I have
an excuse to keep looking.


Beauty follows you like a halo encasing
every fiber of your being, and I want to
be blinded by it, so it is the last thing I
ever see.


I missed you before this moment,
and I will miss you for every one
that follows. Please do not leave.

A Face of Beauty

Your eyelashes were the most delicate parts of you,
covering and protecting those ocean pools, Your eyes
the strongest, collecting saltwater in the bags at the shores,
waterfalls surrounded by alluring scenery.
Your smile was the brightest, the moon in a sky full of stars,
an led lighting up a dark room in a power outage.
Your smile made wildfires feel like birthday candles.
Your eyelashes were the most intricate parts of you,
bringing emphasis to the fervent sadness
held in the lakes your eyes reflected,
contradicting the blinding beauty in the stories your smile told.

Half-Dead Beauty

Death is not beautiful
when you’re actually dead
But barely living
in half-dead trees,
half-dried roses,
and deathly thin models
it’s often alluring.
How ironic that
fallen leaves,
broken thorns,
and ruined bodies
are considered beauty
but death is only pretty
if you’re barely living.



Beauty is an illusion of the mind,
an opinionated decision to like what
is seen, biased to personal preferences.
I feel most beautiful when your eyes
are on me, admiring all that I once
believed was flawed. When your eyes
flick down to mine, and a blush meets
a smile, a collision of affection creating
the most alluring memories.

I Dream of Nights Like This

When it is past our curfew, kiss me under the glow of the single streetlamp on this road. Let us break from the screaming in the music representing our frustrations and hear the symphonies a quiet night can cause within our smiles. Every breath becomes a piano, every laugh acts as the whole damn orchestra. Let us enjoy the star’s dance to the sounds we are creating. Every touch we share ignites a spark powerful to light another in the sky. To the one solo act that soars; shoots above our heads, we wish that the sun will rise just a few minutes late so that we can enjoy the encore.