(i think i wrote this too! it sounds neat.)

i read my old poetry

trying to know the girl who used to be me.

my heart has since shattered

kaleidoscope scattered;

in shards reflected. 

–from an old journal entry

listening to the dark expanding sound of a plane flying low overhead,

to the intermittent mishmash clangs of the night, 

to all of the disconnected trajectories reverberating pointlessly, 

if it all ends, i had something.

and most of us will make it, 

yes, and it might just as well be us.

goodnight, goodnight

my fallen star.

i guess you’re right…

you always are….

it’s been getting harder to decide

when to be honest

and when to lie

who best stomachs the truth, how do i know

when to spit up such words

or sharply swallow