i wanna write you a poem on this leaf.
i drank half a bottle of rosé and slept all afternoon.
think about how weird and crunchy a bird is
and how it can fly…
i feel hopeful.
its like when you look at a window at night
and you have to decide if you’re looking at your reflection
or what’s outside.
what’s outside?
12,000 people in this city and i still can’t sleep.
this leaf may break into a thousand pieces before it gets to you.
maybe that’s the point.
fuck, right?

i live at the ocean now.

idk i found this in my phone

where are your feet?

right now

lines on a map that belongs to only me
touched cold ceramic floors on the equator and
sticky kitchens on chartreuse.
once pressed on cold cold metal bars
bright blue and hollow.
here now skin to skin 
sticking together
the pulse evident
under blankets and wrapped so tightly but i would rather
trace the inside of your calves
i would rather lay all day 
for today.

i don’t like saying goodnight or goodbye.
don’t like the silence after. don’t like the pause.
i am very good at pretending i haven’t said these things on accident.

last journal entry written on the train leaving france one and half years ago. 

last journal entry written on the train leaving france one and half years ago. 

i don’t think i felt down or dead or anything
i mean i felt drunk and that’s normal but
i didn’t feel like moving or anything.
numb and kissable. just running around 
screaming and yelling and being 22 and
bliss and ignorance and so so so american. 
i mean really no one does it like we do.
we just really really have a knack
for fucking shit up and then saying
oh sorry i didn’t know.

i don’t know its weird. i don’t know where
i’m supposed to be. i think just wherever i am.

Salmon River in Pulaski, NY. 

how to stop kissing an 18 year old boy;

fur and black boots through the snow,
wine drunk, gin drunk,
come home from the bar,
collapse into arms that withhold cold, 
that don’t care about the burn yet.
a grip so new, smooth palms,
filling with splinters stuck just deep enough. 
splinters picked up from different sleeves,
from different arms, from different palms.

and with tiny tiny tweezers, he’d take them out,
every night, one by one, in the dark, 
splinter by splinter, into a pile so big,
that one day, 
it becomes kindling,
and sets itself on fire. 

keep kissing him until everything is grey.
keep kissing him until he is not there anymore.
keep kissing the fire until you are ash.

"une immense esperance"

i’m in the middle of some shit. i wanna lay in my bed and listen to music real loud with dark coffee in this premature fall weather. its august which means i’m leaving soon. same thing every year. i want to be with someone and no one at the same time. make me think of esther greenwood. 

there is a mountain on the border of my lip
from a mosquito kiss. mountains beyond mountains.
the first kiss to leave a mark in months.

nothingwillbewasted said: Hi beautiful girl, so happy to see your postcard on my kitchen table today. Thanks for thinking of me. <3Kay

<3 i think of you always.

my drunk kitchen feat. my bathing suit and salad.

my drunk kitchen feat. my bathing suit and salad.

keep my feet tucked under the edge and anyway ill still dream of you. i was 14 and i was kissing guitar strings. i was 17 sucking on coconut popsicles taking shots of zhumir. i have daddy issues and i only want to be held. whats so wrong with kissing red. whats so wrong with kissing.