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I’m leaving.

On Tuesday I bought a ticket to South America for seven months. I’ve been planning this trip, talking about it, wanting it, begging for it, fighting for it, for almost a year. And now, I’m holding the next two months before I leave in my hands and suddenly I don’t want it as bad.  Well…no…that’s a lie. I do, I want it with everything in my bones but what I don’t want is to leave everything I love behind. I don’t want to come back forgotten, I don’t want to see the love of my life with another girl and I don’t want to have to start a new life when I just had to for 7 months. I made everything about this trip, about me. It was my turn to have my adventure and it is. But I never considered what I could leave behind and what I couldn’t get back. I walked around so triumphant- that I am setting myself up for this big extravagant-soul-searching-journey that I became so caught up in what it meant for myself and I failed to consider what it meant for my friendships; my love life. I’m hardly scared to leave, but I’m already scared to come home. The world doesn’t stop when you are full filling your own personal endevours and I think the magnitude of that reality just came and slapped me in the face.




wolf of neglect

Your back to me sets fire to the kindle of my intuition. 

Your eyes stand alone in the room of masks and

veils and I catch them as I always do. 

Sharp; while I cup the outline of your jaw

in my eager hands-the ghosts of our forgotten

secret transcending from my palms.

I reach into my chest, throw that blood soaked

organ into the words that run sweet like vinnegar.

My humility holds your steady gaze as I feed off of it 

for days. Starved from the mockery of teased neglect.

Left to ferment in the blood at the edge of a wolf’s sharpest tooth. 

I wait.