the poet

inspired by people-watching. inspired by the perfect words that roll off of your pen. inspired by making flowers bloom. inspired by noticing the little details. inspired by small libraries and big museums. inspired by the smell of lavender and sage. inspire by watching fingers chase each other across the keys. inspired by late nights and early mornings. inspired by the sky. inspired by the warmth of green tea. inspired by windows and doors. inspired by wolves. inspired by the secret of the stars. inspired by road trips and plane rides. inspired by hope. inspired by courage. inspired by dark coffee. inspired by messy buns. inspired by hugs. inspired by the world. inspired by inspiration.

she’s a flower— a wallflower. but this flower won’t bloom. shrinking in a corner, pressed against the wall. seems like a part of her is wondering if she exists at all. she didn’t get the memo that told you how to be—  she’s wandering and hopeless and too afraid to leave. watch slowly as she withers, starving for her sun; longing to be a part of something or someone.

my parents gave me the middle name soleil - sun; surrounded by beams of light.  often i forget that there is light at all, that the sun still shines in another part of the world. and my name then transforms into a reminder,  that perhaps i can be the sun—  the light for someone else. on that day when my own sun seems to have disappeared,  maybe i can be the light that i am looking for.

she called me brave.  she said, ‘autumn, you are brave. i admire your courage.” i don’t know what she’s talking about.  i don’t feel brave.  but oh, how it’s nice to hear her say it. maybe you don’t have to feel brave to have courage.

would you rather learn the truth knowing it could hurt you, or stay silent wondering if there’s a chance? i can’t make up my mind

nothing ever ends beautifully. it ends with harsh finality, clapping a black screen in our faces, and we turn it into poetry to take away the sting. our beauty comes from our confusion, our loss, and our struggle to heal.

my biggest fear is falling short. of being so close to where i want to be that i can almost touch it, almost taste it, but my fingers slip and i fall away and everything disappears into another  a l m o s t

my heart is trapped in that smile

“just tired,” she whispered in response to the simple question of 'how are you' “just tired,” she muttered in reply to the constant refrain of 'are you okay' “just tired,” she repeated over and over again but you could tell it wasn’t just a lack of sleep that made her this way it was a lack of hope 

i won’t tell you if you hurt me, i will tell you if you are hurting someone i love when my sister starting crying because she was upset, i yelled and railed and locked myself in my room for her sake when my brother was concerned that my dad’s anger was because of him, i talked and cleared things up and put myself in the way for his sake you can hurt me you can be angry with me, even unfairly you can scream and stomp and judge it’s okay, i won’t confront you on it but if you dare to hurt someone i love believe me, i will whip my head up so fast that you can’t see my fingers until they’re around your neck do not hurt them unless you dare