Some Of My Poetry

Some of My Poetry

love letter to a supernova

remember when

we orbited each other like planets,

caught up in the gravity of our own innocence?

i could tell you that your eyes were like nebulas,

your heart as rapidly expanding as a galaxy,

your smile a streaking comet in a sea of darkness,

and all of it would be true

and yet not enough to describe you.

-

because, darling, you were my universe.

i could never know every part of you

but that never stopped me from trying.

-

yet the constellations are filled with tragedies,

and the stars within them mourn and die;

and when you ignited in a spray of self-destruction,

my heart collapsed in on itself.

-

perhaps stars are never meant to love;

for one moment of brilliant, burning passion is not enough

to define all the dark days after.

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unwritten definitions

hollow. verb: to throw a stone and hear no echo; to feel nothing where something used to be; to carve out your own heart and offer it upon an altar of your own bones.

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gen z

i am a part of a generation that died before it lived.

even before we opened our eyes to stinging air

we knew our struggle would be our story.

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i am part of a generation that is accustomed

to things ending even as they begin,

innocence most of all.

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i am part of a generation that inherited

the problems of the past, yet was not raised 

with the full knowledge of the mantle it stood to shoulder.

-

i am part of a generation that longs to be accepted,

and i am part of a generation that has accepted itself

because no one else will.

-

i am part of a generation that demands change.

we refuse the heirlooms of ignorance our elders offer

because we will not trade truth for tired lies.

-

and i am part of a generation that hopes to heal.

we will remember and memorialize

the tears and troubles of those who came before us,

-

and we will come to terms with our own pain.

our hearts were made to burn brightly,

but left unchecked, they threaten ash.

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eulogy

content warning // implied police brutality, mentions of death

this is for the ones who should have lived.

this is for the ones whose deaths were what it took for people to turn their heads.

this is for the ones who never woke up from the nightmare others call the Dream.

this is for the ones whose names are mangled as badly as their bodies.

this is for the ones who did everything right.

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this is for the ones who survived.

this is for the ones who didn’t know they were saying goodbye for the last time.

this is for the ones who are still learning to speak in past tense.

this is for the ones who live in fear.

this is for the ones who are exhausted.

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this is for the ones who never find justice,

and for the ones who never stop trying.