summer rebirth
deconstructing walls
built by cold years,
my hands are no longer brittle,
my blood has begun to warm;
it all now comes so easily
savoring daybreak frost from her last kiss,
discovering constellations in her freckles,
chasing sparrows in her eyes,
this is my home,
i am home.


floorboard truth
so full of excuses
for why things don’t
get better—
i write poetry for no one


love poem
if i could take 1000 poems
and set them free 
like bluebirds over a 
sun woven meadow,
i would
but i can’t
because i don’t ever
want to 
let you


chasing the muse
i’ve lost her,
and the nighttime
sounds are
so lonely
you’re not


FIND THOM: @flexyourhead on Insta

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