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