I have seen the best of you, and the worst of you, and I choose both.
Such a little thing really, a kiss… most people don’t give it a moment’s consideration. They kiss on meeting, they kiss on parting, that simple touching of flesh is taken entirely for granted as a basic human right.
Life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air.
Some people read palms to tell your future, but I read hands to tell your past. Each scar makes a story worth telling. Each callused palm, each cracked knuckle is a missed punch or years in a factory.
My world was the size of a crayon box, and it took every colour to draw her
I will love you with too many commas, but never any asterisks.
You can only fit so many words in a postcard, only so many in a phone call, only so many into space before you forget that words are sometimes used for things other than filling emptiness.
Let the statues crumble. You have always been the place.
I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
This is how I disappear in pieces.This is how I leave while not moving from my seat.This is how I dance away.This is how I’m gone before you wake.
It does not matter how strong your gravity is, we were always meant to fly.
Because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s sent away.
I love youas much as the oceankisses the shoreno matter how many timesit is sent away.
My self-confidence can be measured out in teaspoons mixed into my poetry, and it still always tastes funny in my mouth.
But I have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and I choose both
Once, she fell off of a ladder when I was three. She says all she was worried about was my face as I watched her fall.
Be careful, darling. Your footsteps land heavy here. Your racket will wake the dragons.
Because rain will wash away everything, if you let it.
To me, having the courage to tell your own story goes hand in hand with having the curiosity and humility to listen to others’ stories.
Spoken word poetry is the art of performance poetry. I tell people it involves creating poetry that doesn’t just want to sit on paper, that something about it demands it be heard out loud or witnessed in person.