a silent threshold

i stood before you, in my big winter coat. just trying to keep the darkness at bay. hiding away from the cold…

my breath turning to steam. and i think these days, we both cling to things that we can’t ever truly hold.

but what are you supposed to say, when it all goes wrong? when the flowers wilt, and my hair turns grey, and you look up at me, with eyes so wide, and beautiful. and how in god’s name am i supposed to see your face and still be able to disappoint you?

and last night, i dreamt that i had once last chance to hold my younger self. and i told her to be happy. i told her to read books and write stories, and go to playgrounds because there’s only so much time left. because it’s over now, isn’t it? i’ve got to fend for myself.

and i just want to love you. for as long as i can. because i don’t know, if i’ve got eighty years or two minutes until the end, but i do know that… that you’ve always been there. and you’ve been such a good friend…


you don’t remember it all that well. but it happened, didn’t it? if the photo albums have… anything to say about it.

and as your fingers graze through the layers of dust, cough a little, and wipe the years of history off on your cream-coloured dress.

you don’t remember it all that well. and yet you’re still shattered into pieces because of it. and sometimes, it all comes rushing back. and sometimes… it’s okay. you can move on, now. it doesn’t have to define you for the rest of your life, and you are so much more than all of the things other people may have said about you.

and sometimes you are there in my head. telling me who i am. and what to do. pinning me to the wall by my shoulders. and maybe i’ll stay there forever. because i would never want to upset you…

sometimes, i look you up on instagram. and i wonder what you’re up to.

but it’s long past time now. come on, little girl. wipe away the dust, and clear out the shelves of the stories they gave you.

it’s time… it’s time to write something new.

I’ve always been the type to get stuck in the past… well, more than a little bit. I’m definitely guilty of holding a grudge, and developing strong opinions based off past experiences. I think we all are, at least to some degree–it’s human nature.

And it’s also something I’ve been considering, of late. How, well, reflecting on the past is great, to a degree. But it can also be incredibly destructive. I’ve spent so long living my life based off what happened to me when I was seven. And… I’m not seven anymore.

For ages, those memories have governed everything I do, and honestly, it’s getting kind of old–living this kind of half-life, because all I can think about most days is keeping myself safe from ever being bullied like I was then again.

I’m just… I think, after so long, I’m ready to leave all the painful memories from that period of my life in the past. Not to forget that it happened–but to give it a funeral, and lay flowers on its grave, and take a deep breath… and move on to something new.

It’ll still come back to me, sometimes. Of course it will. And when it does, I will remind myself that I’m safe, and that things are better now. That I am worth so much more than the things that people said to me as a kid. And that I deserve to move past this. And so do you.

Lots of love,



In this episode I talk self-care (and how difficult it can be), writer’s block, feeling broken, imposter syndrome, and more.

Song is “Breezy May (Acoustic)” by Axletree. It is found here (https://freemusicarchive.org/music/Axletree/Sunset_EP/Breezy_May_Acoustic), and used under this license (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/).

“Mimos Menguados” is from patrickdeartegea.com  and has also been edited by me.

Need to talk to anyone? Find a crisis line in your area here: https://www.suicidestop.com/call_a_hotline.html

All songs have been edited by me.

All sound effects made by yours truly! 🙂

The next episode will be dropping next Friday, 9a.m. PDT–make sure to subscribe/follow/add this podcast to your library/enable notifications on it to be notified when it comes out.

Find me on all my internet places here: https://linktr.ee/dragonwritesthings

And find this podcast all over the web here: https://linktr.ee/sonnetsofateenagewannabe

butterfly; pinned to the cutting board

you’ll cry out for help. just like you always do. and just like always… no one’s coming to save you.

you’ll rest your hopes, and dreams, on those neon-bright wings and maybe this is all one big dream. maybe you’re going to wake up, because you have to wake up, any fucking second

but you don’t. and instead, all you can feel is the knife poised against your fragile, trembling abdomen. the burning heat… the smoke starting to engulf you… and this is it, isn’t it? so go on. sing me one last beautiful, effervescent song.

but don’t bother trying, little girl. because begging for your life isn’t going to work out for anyone.

Inspired by this prompt. I never pegged myself as the “prompts” type of gal, but I guess I’ve been having trouble writing poetry that does just fall into the same themes I usually choose to write, and just really pushing myself to branch out, and sometimes prompts can be really helpful for that, just in terms of forcing me to step out of my comfort zone. I was considering writing a little note at the bottom of this about what was going through my head as I wrote this, but honestly, I’m really not sure, and I’m still processing a lot of the feelings in this poem–and I think it kinda reads better when the reader is left to interpret it however they’d like to. So yeah, I guess if this was relatable in any way for you, feel free to leave or a comment, and otherwise, I hope you enjoyed. 🙂

Lots of love,



you know, it’s funny. the things you would do for love, when you’re just a little kid. how you’d lie right through your teeth, for one single second of undivided care and admiration.

it’s crazy. how your mind plays tricks on you. how success is relative, but i still have to be the best in every single room. how childhood was never really an option. because if you don’t work harder, no one will ever want you.

so don’t you get it? i’m perfect. for this one, glorious moment, as the sunlight serenades my skin, i am king midas. golden.

because this was never about me. and it was always about you. about the hole in my chest, where flowers grew among the broken shards of glass, but no light peeked through.

you always said i was a hungry kid. and i think i finally know why that’s true.

Part 5000 in my quarantine nostalgia poems but make it really depressing, because actually, it turns out being a little kid kinda sucks, if you’re me anyway.

Back during this time in my life, I remember feeling so alone. I was always the odd one out in every situation imaginable, and everyone must secretly hate me. But, I don’t know, if there’s anything that growing up has taught me, it’s that we’re never the only ones who feel the way we do, and that… I don’t know, this sounds cheesy, but… there’s community, where you least expect it. And I promise, I’m not just saying that.

I guess that’s why I started this blog, in the end. I don’t know if it’s helped anyone, but if it’s made even one person feel just a little bit less isolated in their feelings… then all of this is worth it, to me. Because it’s what I wish I had been able to find during my darkest times, and what I still wish there was more of out there in the world. So I hope that this site, if you actively follow it, has been able to do that for you–and I hope this post in some way or other spoke to you. 🙂

Lots of love,