The Masquerade 

I am no saint.
Maybe the opposite, with
A hardened heart to God.


Dead Tree

Truth burns my chest
Shame sews my lips
And my pen won’t rest
Between my finger tips

For my hand just shakes
Everyone is watching me
To see how long it takes
For my words to grow a tree

The words must come out
Or they’ll burn me alive
So why is my mouth in a drought
And my pen unable to contrive

Why Did We Break Up?

Because we grew apart,
and we were going to different colleges.
You and I wanted different things in life,
so it wouldn’t have lasted anyways.

Because I wanted kids,
and you hated them.
There was no balance between work and play,
and money grew on trees for you.

Because we had nothing in common,
though we were too similar.
I couldn’t feel anything ,
while you felt everything.

Because I was fine with keeping it fun,
even though you wanted all of me.
You deserved someone who loved you,
and I wasn’t her.

Because I liked rules
until I met you.
We changed each other,
so we were strangers to ourselves.

Because we were going too fast
yet somehow in a stalemate.
So I wasn’t happy anymore,
but I didn’t know how to tell you.

Because I was just a heartbreak
who left you heartbroken.
I’m afraid to let anyone love me.
What if I’m never capable of love?


If I’m lucky I can
forget the chronic,
tonic clonic beating
in my chest,

the relentless unrest
forging my demise.
Your lies the size of air
fill my lungs.

Will I trip up the rungs
to the high road and
land righthand man to shame?
I feel lost.

Every breath has a cost
that I cannot buy.
Maybe my eyes need hung
out to dry.

What if breathing your lies
and drying my tears
volunteers a breakdown
and I break?

Lost at Sea

She’s so tragic
and beautiful,
how she dresses like
every day is a funeral.

If she rolls up her sleeves I
swear you’ll see her heart,
pumping hard and bleeding out
like Jackson Pollock art.

She expresses her feelings
solely with simplicity.
I look into the mirror and know
that I lack such authenticity.

I don’t even know
if I can like what I see
when I look into my own eyes
and get lost at sea.

Sometimes I think my ribcage
grabs ahold of my heart
and wrings it dry
until my mind falls apart.

Are you any good at puzzles,
crosswords or word searches?
Every time I get close,
my stomach violently lurches.

Maybe you can help
if you don’t give up on me too.
Tell me what you see
when I look back at you.


When I was ten,
I use to dream of
running away. I’d
lie in my bed
at night with
the blinds pulled
open and the
curtains divided
so that I could
stare at the sky.

With every rise
and fall of my
chest, I could
nearly feel the
cold, soft grass
under my feet. I’d
imagine breathing
in a warm, summer
breeze and exhaling
my worries away.

But then I’d make
the mistake of
blinking. The
realization that
I’d never be
enough would
reenter my
thoughts until my
blinking turned
to sleeping.

My Path

By losing myself I
found God. Grace
more precious than
directions, for He
tells me that any
path I take is
blessed; love deeper
than every thicket,
sacrifice larger than
the mountains, forgiveness
swifter than the wind,
and a peace quieter
than a gurgling brook.