from sydney and austin, but currently living in singapore.
in the process of writing a full-fledged book with three amazing other humans.

you built me palaces out of paragraphs

black lives matter

Message from Writer

"You can’t control what happens to you in this life. Each individual is living out their own story, and you’re living out yours. But you can’t control it and manipulate it, filtering out aspects of your life - of yourself - that aren’t cemented in your idea of the plan. The plan, the map for what your life should be. Because the only thing you can do - the one thing you can do - is learn. Learn from your mistakes and watch the horizon. There’s always something amazing up ahead. But you can’t live in your future, and you can’t drown in your past. All you can do is live wholeheartedly - without fear or regret for what’s to come and what has been - and love every damn minute of it… because you only get this once."

a writer in love, separated by fate's cruel hand

May 21, 2020



take me




show me what those songs are always

s i n g i n g


baby, when i think of us

i don't think of the firewall separating us for the summer

i don't think of the empty streets

i don't think of your house

halfway across town

and of you in it, reconnecting to save each other

no, i think of summers past

your hands in my hair

beer bottles knocked back

mellencamp over speakers

long car rides, just us and the road

the world belonged to us

just a couple of teenagers

an artist with eyes the color of stormy seas

a sardonic smirk that gave the distinct impression of blissful cynicism

well, to someone who did not know you, that was.

because i know you as the boy

who wanted to draw the world not as it was

but as it



and who wanted to draw me

me, with my scars, my uneven hair

me, with my chapped lips, my chipped teeth

but you wanted to draw me like aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty

that's how i was in your eyes

"You still are, sweetheart," 

i hear the words echo through the broken speakers of my piece of technology

my piece of the outside world

the world beyond these four walls.

"I'm still tryin' to draw the view outside my window, you know. A bird flew across and perched there, and I tried to sketch him, but he flew away. I couldn't get the sketch right in time."

i picture the bird, taking to the skies in one swift motion


full of life and hope

for the world is open to him



"You okay, Rosie? You seem... kind of subdued. Need to hear a joke?"

thank you for always making me smile

making me laugh in these trying times

your face pixelated on my screen as the bandwidth stretches

"Ah, that's a good one. Never gets old. Anyway, how's your writing comin'? That novel of yours finished yet?"

my writing, which has taken to becoming my outlet as my mind like broken glass bleeds onto the page

~"It's good. I've been keeping to poetry, lately... actually."~

"Neat. Well, anythin' you wanna share... I'm all yours. Always."


pauses are usually few and far between in our calls.

~"I love you."~

"I love you, too. So... we still on for movie night this Saturday? It'll be on mine. I don't mind screensharin'. I'll buy the popcorn!"

your eyes sparkle as that smile i love spreads across your face

~"Of... of course. I can't wait."~

"Okay then. Hey, hold still, will ya? I'm gonna try to draw you again. Here, put on some music. Oh, I love this song. Wish I could be there with you, listenin' to it. I'd dance, Rosie. I would."

secret smiles, not-so-secret songs

"And hey, come June first, we'll both be outta here. First thing I'm gonna do is I'm gonna drive over to your house with a kiss and a Stones CD for you."

i mark the date in my head, etching it over and over and over

we're well and truly ours



in isolation.


See History

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  • Emi

    This is so beautiful! I love how it tells a story, and i love the details you put in.

    about 2 months ago
  • Anha

    some honest criticism - your continuous dialogue detracts from the overall 'poetic' feel of the piece, even though your formatting clearly intends for it to be a poem. if you paraphrased what was said in the dialogue, that would probably fix this issue. e.g. "and he says he's mine, always." isolating insignificant words like in the first three lines doesn't do much for emphasising important parts of the poem, nor does it do much for rhythm or structure, so i would advise against that as well. i quite like "my mind like broken glass bleeds onto the page" - the imagery is good, but the concept of glass 'bleeding' is almost not true to it's physical structure, so could i suggest changing it slightly: "my mind like molten glass bleeds onto the page"? i know this changes the entire image of the line and i'm being pedantic - it probably doesn't matter that much. the repetition of "i don't" makes for a strong poetic device, though i feel that this poem could be strengthened by using stanzas to separate major trains of thought throughout the piece, much like one would use paragraphs in prose. your imagery has this almost urban vibe to it - it's a breath of fresh air in the midst of metaphors galore making things abstract and hard to understand in its essence. however, i suggest using more language techniques to try and set your poetry apart from everything else that's published here. (that statement's really vague but idk how else to put it.)

    about 2 months ago
  • batman_is_a_cracker

    Howdy. I loved this. It's outrageously beautiful and raw. Superb job!
    (This is unrelated but June 1st is my birthday :D)

    about 2 months ago