aloha. xvii. still trying to find her way out of the labyrinth.

"I’m not sad, but the boys who are looking for sad girls always find me. I’m not a girl anymore and I’m not sad anymore. You want me to be a tragic backdrop so that you can appear to be illuminated, so that people can say ‘Wow, isn’t he so terribly brave to love a girl who is so obviously sad?’ You think I’ll be the dark sky so you can be the star? I’ll swallow you whole."

❝ 2. the drizzle

there’s a girl
with guitar strings
as heart strings and
a bloodstream filled
with the smell of home,
tea, and copper.

most days are spent
with mile-wide smiles;
wings spread across the road
and voices becoming the wind
during car drives,

she has the shade of the sky
right after it rains
embedded in her skin -
and when she sings
words decide to dance
with mountain-top caves.

sometimes her sky turns
a few shades darker -
and sometimes the sky
turns a few volts sadder.

remember that a silent storm
does not equal something dull
and that a raging hurricane
does not equal something terrible -

remember that this girl is
what the world would be like
if the moon
and the sun finally decided
to stop chasing each other
every single day.  


❝ you are filled
with more than bad habits
and regrets, i promise.
a.m.b

❝ 1. the hurricane

there’s a girl
with hair the shade
a bit too similar to
fire right after
an explosion hits -
fire spreading like water
falling fast down
against the pavement
after a thunderstorm.

eyes like pieces of glass
found on the beach
where a hurricane hit
just last saturday.

remember
that we are bombs, darling.
the simplest of touches
and a copper wire might
go undone.

remember that there are
hurricanes, thunderstorms,
and then heaps of drizzle
falling so softly
it makes you think
you can taste
the stars.

this girl is the hurricane
and the drizzle
at the exact same time.  


❝ i’m battling my monsters - i’m done.
Six Word Story #6 | a.m.b 

❝ your blood was made to sing

little girl, you will break.
     you will cry and you will wonder
why this world is not yours. you will
   want to tear down cities with
      red, want to paint the sky with
orange, want to make yourself
    yellow – like the sun.
you will want to become the
stars, envelope yourself in the heat
                 and blind millions.
you will want to prove
        you can run in forests,
pitch black with no stars out,
     amongst the wolves because you
have claimed your place amongst
    them with dripping teeth.
        little girl, you will see heartbreak
and ruin and be ruined and your little
beating heart will turn cold from the
               icicles lacing the houses
along the street you used to skip past
when you were only ten years old.
            this was the same year
you discovered that your blood was made
   to sing. that your blood was not always
                               your own.


❝ listen to my blood
and tell me
you don’t hear chaos.
a.m.b

❝ similar to poetry - she suffocates you.
Six Word Story #5 | a.m.b 

❝ you have ripped wings, ripped life.
Six Word Story #4 | a.m.b.

❝ we are all thunder at 10 in the morning

there are a few things
that you know for certain.

you know that at 6:50 in the morning
the absence of thunder on the streets
makes you take a deep breath,
and you know that math
was never your strong suit.

you are 17 years old, have a love
for coffee but don’t need it
to survive. you live in
a world that sometimes promotes
falling as flying and
you do not plan
on falling anytime soon.

you are 17 years old, cry the
instant a cut onion enters the room,
and your friends have always
been the best of you.

these are the facts that
you have known for your entire life -
that your friends are the reason for
why you smile so much,
and that at times, the sky makes your
breath catch.
you never remember to
pack lunch and you
can’t drive, but you have friends
that seem to believe that
you are important enough to fuss over
if you forget to bring even an apple.
you have friends that would
drive out just to see you, and friends
that believe that maybe
sometimes, you are something
worth being called amazing.

there is a list of all the things you can do
and things you cannot,
and somedays you
are weighed down with
the belief that with everything,
you can’t even name your abilities
and that makes you feel like
a stone sinking through the deepest
point in the ocean.

there is a list of everything you can do,
everything you cannot, and everything you do
or don’t have. you can’t cook, only
bake – but only with
chocolate. you can’t draw inside
the lines but you can make
the lines turn into wings.

you can’t stop yourself
from thinking that sometimes,
this world was not made for you.
somedays this is something that
not even your friends can make
go away.

you can’t name every
single state in this country or every
country on this planet, or even 20%
of them, but you know that
this world is precious and infinite.

yes, there are people
who believe that your skin
is something you should never
be comfortable in,
but try to remember to notice how
in order to cross the street,
someone has to stop their car
for a just a few seconds
and that while that may not
seem like much, it’s enough.
try to remember that
being human
is something to be proud of.

you have friends who believe
that you are worth more than
what you can do and what
you can’t. you have friends that
look at you sometimes with bright eyes
and smiles that say, you are
more than what you think you are.

you don’t have a 4.0 GPA
and you can’t draw folds
for the life of you.

you have a camera, and you
will spend the rest of your life
preserving what it’s like
to be so perfectly human. you can
spend the rest of your days
trying to figure out why
in the mornings, we kiss our
loved ones goodbye.
you can’t do most things, but
you can write. you can
try to put your feelings down
on paper, sometimes fail,
but try to voice how
we are limitless
and maybe
that’s enough. maybe
that’s everything.


❝ your neck sings of sunlight kisses.
Six Word Story #3 | a.m.b.

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