poets in a coffee house

an end to a beginning. a beginning that facilitates a cathartic release. winter softens, and the world finally seems joyful again. of course, winter can bring out joy, but the temperament to and reaction of spring brings out a better version of ourselves. it can even be considered a beginning…

the month of love. every year, i always find february to be a rough month. but it’s still the start of the year; and winter still walks. short on days, full of snow, and happiness to be found in the moments that seem bleak. hearts open up as flowers, waiting…

my birthday passed a week ago, and now i’m twenty-one years old. growing up is bittersweet. i try not to think about the past or the future; instead i try to live in the moment. however, it’s times like this when i can’t help but wonder, “what does it mean…

i’ve been thinking a lot about my question from yesterday (“what makes me happy?”). honestly, i don’t know. it could be the coffee. i also don’t think it’s the kind of question that can be answered in a day. so, where do we go from here? even now, i’m not…

to me, failure is permanent, but the scars left on our hearts do not define us. this is not meant in a negative way. they shape us and make us stronger. failure is the first step to growth. without hardship, there is no success. even if there is no hardship,…

we haven’t talked in a while. i told my therapist that you keep appearing in my dreams and i don’t know what it means. do i miss you? resent you? love you? there is no love like yours. how can i do anything but miss you? i missed you before…

the air is so dry, my nose won’t stop bleeding. the air we breathed in together is long gone, and i don’t remember the smell of it anymore. ever since you moved away to massachusetts, the air smells different now. maybe that’s why my nose bleeds.

as a kid, it felt like my heart didn’t belong to me. so i gave it away. now that i am older, i have mended together the broken pieces, but some are still missing. and i look for them in everything.

the water keeps running down the drain, and i’ve spent years chasing it. to chase after something that keeps getting away; there comes a time where it feels as if it is not purposeful anymore. and things have lost their meaning. “opiates and cigarettes to help me pass the time.”…

death is as sweet as the sugar i put in my tea. on friday, i feel joy. i dance and sing and live a joyful day. everyday is joyful to me. i can’t wait to see my future. ​however, the thought of death still crosses my mind. we cross this…