The First Draft

"Write drunk; edit sober."


July 2017


I feel stuck.

Stuck in faith.

In life.

I feel as though I’m a minor character in my own story book. 

I’m stuck from making a move.

All I can do is stand in the corner and hope I’m called on.

Otherwise I’ll never speak up.


A poem about poetry

How humorous it is to hear the opinions of those who find poetry to be “too moody.”

As if poetry only exists for love and flowers and rainbows and smiles.

It is open to that.

But it also serves as a medium for suffering and pain. Heartache. Depression. Addiction.

It the lowest point you can go, as well as the highest.

It doesn’t discriminate. It welcomes with open arms and provides comfort in all forms.

My reaction after reading an online review for a poetry book that deemed it “too moody.”

Don’t look back 

You can’t stop the world from spinning, love.

One day you’re here, broken down and beaten, and the next you’re across the world thriving.

And nothing seems to have changed, except everything is different.

Time may feel like it’s stopped now. But one by one those minutes turn into years.

And those years don’t look back at the moments in which everything felt like it was crumbling.

There are more important moments ahead.

Broken Escalator

Lately I’ve been feeling as though I’m stuck on a escalator, trying to go up while it’s moving down.

My dad told me once, “You know what, kid? You can’t catch a break. You’re always going to have to work twice as hard as everyone else to get what you want.”

I’m afraid he’s right.

I plan the future ahead of me, and everything seems in reach. Everything seems right in front of me. I just have to take that escalator ride to the next level.

I hop on and start my journey to the next floor. Occasionally, it slows down. Stops even. But at some point it started moving backward.

I, refusing to go back to square one, push on. I begin walking up the escalator that I’m supposed to be cruising up.

I can watch as those around me enjoy their rides. Sipping their coffees or checking phone messages to pass the time.

Meanwhile, I’m getting frustrated.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this, it’s to always have a Plan B.

I’ve applied to a dozen other summer jobs in case that first one doesn’t work out. I added a second major to assure I’ll be able to get a job once I graduate.

Nothing ever comes easy, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try.

So from now on when the escalator tries to pull me back, I’ll take two steps up at a time. And when it pulls back harder, I’ll run.

Before you

Before you, I didn’t know it was possible to feel my heart scream.

For the butterflies in my stomach to fly out my mouth.

To have to stop what I was doing because I was overwhelmed with emotion.

Before you, my pre-night-time-thought-wandering was confined to my past day. Not ten years from now.

I couldn’t be moved to tears by feeling so much love.

Up in the clouds

Life is like the view from an airplane.
Look down, and you see fireworks.

From the ground, everyone around you is euphoric. In awe of the sky and the colors.

From the clouds, the pop of the firecracker is insignificant, a small spark of light. Barely noticeable.
Now look down and see a thunderstorm.

From the ground, you’re drowning in rain drops and flashes of light. Booming thunder engulfs you.

From the clouds, you look to the right and see small, dark spots of storm. To the left, you see the sun on the horizon. 

Everything can change based on your perspective. Choose to live up in the clouds.

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