Waxing Moon
Guide me to a night in June
A memory, distraction so sweet
May cannot come too soon.
Tears crack rivulets into skin
The salt water begging to wash upon every wound
A genuineness in its violence
Love as an act of defiance,
Where does it leave you?
A broken heart, this crippled tune.
Skipping beats, rhythm undone,
No longer aligned, the war is won.
I spark and these words ignite,
Setting alight flames inside this washed up soul of mine.
Hope is something I’ve indulged in,
And nothing has left more scars.
Woolgathering 
Some of (a lot of) these poems are written in a place of frustration, hurt, or sadness, and I always feel kind of weird reading them back once I’m out of it. Because I’m not mad, but in the moment I needed to express certain feelings. I’m the kind of person that needs to vocalize everything that I internalize, and I don’t have a lot of places to do that, which is why I’m glad for this site.
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