now that you're here,  I'd like to thank you for brown eyes, because there is no such thing as a warm atlantic. I hear you when you tell me that not even the stars are immortal, but I'm not asking for all your sunday afternoons, or monday mornings or friday nights. I don't need another weekday lover. but now that you're here, you...

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she likes people who use heavy words, but never sterile ones.  the kind of lips that taste like worn pages, and eyes like the Atlantic. she likes blood moons and busy hands and the boys who never bothered to ask her major. she likes the breaths that sit heavy on his skin, and the kind of Paris that lives between the walls of...

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tell me I walk too fast tell me that stars are for science  tell me I'm no green-eyed child with piano keys under my nail beds and poems under every heavy breath. tell me teenaged girls don't major in political science tell me I'm not allowed to write my own dialogue in their margins and tell me that I don't know because two...

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it was only high school poetry. it was only you with your august eyes and us with our tuesday love. we had gold in our eyes and lead on our papers but we were far too brave to write in pencil. we had gold on our palms and lead on our fingers but we washed our hands every sunday. we had black on...

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My dad was stranded in China and then Australia for a few days. No flights coming into the US. My mom was ironing and crying and the television was far too loud. He missed my 5th birthday, and I refused to open presents until he was home. At least he came home. ...

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I didn't read enough books when I was 18. But I emptied more than my share of gas tanks. I wanted to be good at everything, because when I was 17 I was. I liked white shirts with collars and jeans with holes but I never liked my skin. My best friends only spoke to me on Mondays, I painted high school across...

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I always knew who her favorite child was, but that was almost okay because I knew who his was, too. I fought like a lawyer and I never won, I always drove too fast but so did she. He liked the windows cracked and the little lamp on. We danced to "Sweetest Thing", his feet wearing through the carpet and mine on top...

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it's 2 am, and I wish I was sorry. but some loves wear leather jackets and ride without helmets and some loves sit in the corner, too polite to tell you how pretty you are when you smell like smoke. some loves are too polite to tell you when you're going up in smoke. it's 2:18 am, and I wish I was sorry....

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I wanted the lift the room tonight.I didn't want Nelson to have the fly the plane on his own.But I wanted to go to college.And I wanted this to be good,But mostly it's just better than an empty page.And I haven't let my fingers run wild on this keyboard in far too long,But my thoughts have stamina all their own.So thank you for...

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Tonight I wrote a book about high school. unprecedented: but maybe just because I never kissed a boy in junior high. and unforgiving: thanks to all the kids who made me feel like an idiot for not swearing. and remarkable. I wore pink dresses to school but I spent more fourth periods at Snowbird than at a desk third term. I saw my...

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Okay so here's the thing.I am currently analyzing my English teacher's blog. And English teachers love analysis. (I know because I have the AP Lit test on Wednesday and I'm in full panic mode) So this is to you Mr. Kyle Nelson. Once you told us that we're only seventeen, but we write about everything, and nothing. And I loved that. Sometimes you...

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Chicago. Chicago. ...

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ankles crossed hair tumbled eyes tangled  reaching for your words like they'll sing the same as they did in october graduation is a pretty way to phrase goodbyes and I'm terribly sorry that it's all we write about, but most people tend to fade into the sheets as they unravel. I was never well acquainted  with handling endings with care. And I never...

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you were sixteen couldn't breathe back porch, 73 degree beauty. ratted hair ankle socks 5'6' with a decade worth of plans and a high school career worth of empty gas tanks. no blonde ponytail in cut off denim no fly-by, goodbye, long night eyes watching weekends tumble by like the Atlantic. you pieced together your own sky out of criss cross stars left...

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The girl with hair like cotton candy gave me saving words tonight.And I thanked her, politely.They were blue and green.Blue words like her lips used to be.Green words like everything she sees.Like everything she sees.Like everything she sees.Like she's new and March is the only thing she sees.Like March at last can breathe and white hair is made of ashes.Like February 27th turned...

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My mother keeps pressing her cheek against mine and telling me how grateful she is.Grateful.Grateful.All I feel is irreverent.All I feel is the static on your end of the lineAnd the weight of my own voice in your hand.Both of us entirely too grateful.Like a six minute silent phone call is everything and nothing all at once and nothing is worth everything so...

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She washed her windows like the back of her eyelids,Like last years lyrics hadn't quite worn off yet.She wore her collar like her pride,And her keyring like an anchor.She was Chicago:Wind-blown hair every weekday,But Vegas on a Saturday.(Not the strip, just the lights.)Phoenix: never sure if the neighbors would be around come June,But she's always been Colorado.I saw her science and her shoulders.I...

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I apologize for the inconvenience,but I can't be your saviour.See,I'm only 18.And I don't have enough words.My parents threw them across the kitchen counter last night and I'm far too tired to sweep them off the hardwood floor.They're paperweights, anyways.I know I picked up the phone at 11:08 tonight but between curfew and my 9am client I'll have to refer you to a...

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I read a lot of books about America.(And I really and truly liked them all)American SniperLone SurvivorNo Easy DayAnd I saw the movie Unbroken. Twice.And none of those men are born authors,They never had blogs And nations like Iraq and Afghanistan are pressed into their passport pages instead of France.But I wish my words carried half as much weight as theirs. ...

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