february 23rd, 2020

you smile. as your fingers melt away into the snow. and as the paper flowers you gave me start to crumple, and wilt. as time continues to fucking flow.

and i’ll make it perfect. because i swear to god, i’m sorry for every crumple, every crack in my soul. 

and i’m sorry i wasn’t the supergirl you wanted me to be. i’m sorry i couldn’t fly, couldn’t lift up the stone columns as they fell under the weight of the sky.

i know. i know. i failed you, all right? you don’t need to say it again, until the words are etched into my bones.

but it’s a lot, okay. expecting the world from yourself every single day. staying up so late that in the morning, your eyelids sorta turn to stone.

chiseling away the last remains of baby fat from your cheeks with a kitchen knife and letting



It’s been… a really hard week. I don’t actually remember when I wrote this, it’s been in my queue since dinosaurs roamed the earth probably, but… oof. This pretty much perfectly describes how I’m feeling right now.

november 18, 2019

2a.m., and the world rolls out before me. city lights and a pounding heart and trying my best to forget that the future exists because i’m not ready for this. i’m not ready for anything.

2a.m. and i’m trying to believe in myself, but what does that even mean?

2a.m. and goddamnit, when will this be over? because i just want to sleep. want to close my eyes, and feel nothing for a while. but i guess with a mind like mine, that’s not really possible.

2a.m., and for my birthday i would like to live. i would like to not feel the weight of anxiety constantly bearing down on me. black, and white, and black, and white slowly suffocating me.

2a.m., hotel room, and i’m stranded in the foreign city, and it’s all so big, and ruthless, and maybe life is too fast for me.

2a.m. and i can’t believe this is happening. can’t believe that people care this much about me. that this is my moment in the spotlight.  this is my chance to prove it. but after all i’ve done… i’m still not sure i’ll be able to do it.

Wrote this about the night of a big performance I was feeling really nervous about. I was really up at 2a.m., I kept waking up in the middle of the night I was so scared about it. It actually turned out amazing, and I’m so glad I did it, but, well, anxiety sucks, and my brain isn’t always reasonable about things, and also it was the kind of situation where I think most people would have been at least a little jittery about it. Listen to the spoken word version here. Find me on PatreonYouTubeInstagramWattpadTumblr, and on Twitter.

the night wears on

fingers on the glass. it’s raining, again. and i want to throw up for no apparent reason.

and maybe this is what the future means. i don’t know.

i remember being ten. i remember when all of this felt so far off in the distance.  a vague cartoon of the world i live in. and maybe that’s horrible. but i still miss it.

i remember reading the news. and how it’s almost always bad. how some days, it just feels like the world is coming to an end.

how static whispers through my head. and i close my eyes. and i let myself drown in it.

I live in Canada, and I wrote this poem the night of our election–October 21st. I was feeling really anxious about it, and I guess–this helped a bit.

october 26, 2019

it’s a cold day. and you don’t know what you’re doing with your life anymore. 

and you bury your face in your hands. and curl up in a ball on the floor. and wrap yourself in blankets until you don’t remember who you are anymore.

and the clouds slowly darken as the leaves melt on your shoulders. and you run out to the ocean in the middle of the storm, and all you can do is roar. because it’s all turning black and white. and how do you process something when where there used to be clarity now all there’s left is darkness, and some flickering neon lights?

and you stare up at the ceiling. and wonder if this is what it feels like to shrivel up into nothing.

wonder if this is really it. wonder why out of all the people it could have been you had to be sick.

it’s a cold day. and your hands go numb. and the wind blows through your hair. but go ahead. tell yourself you’re doing better.

september 30th, 2019

i took you to town on our lunch hour. just the two of us. in the crisp autumn air, touring vintage shops and bookstores like typical high school students. with typical jansport backpacks. laughing, and looking at books and geeking out about things i bet no one else would even notice. and maybe this is what meeting your soulmate looks like. like finally finding someone who speaks your language. someone who lights up every room they’re in. because i took you to town, and showed you around, and… i was happy. for a moment. i was okay. i was the eye between the storms, and i was okay. and i know it’s such a small thing. but it meant the world to me. that day. i hope you know that. i hope you know how many of my favourite memories were made with you. and i hope you know that the falling leaves did not feel like death omens as long as i stayed there. beside you. and i hope you know how much i love you. because i do. i love you. like a sister i never got to have. like the first real friend i’ve ever had. like one of the best people i know. i love you. 

keywords: poetry blogs, poetry blog sites, poetry blog wordpress, poetry blog websites, poetry on a blog, anonymous poetry blog, poetry blogs best, contemporary poetry blog, deep poetry blog, poetry blogs free, poetry blog sites free, poetry blog on wordpress, original poetry blog, poetry writing blog, poetry writers blog, poetry creative writing blog, mental health and poetry, poetry on mental health, writing poetry mental health, young female poets, young living poets, young modern poets, upcoming young poets, young writers high school, young writers in the world, young writers online, young writers of canada, young writers of canada 2019, young writers poetry, young writers quotes, young writers 2019