I don’t want to have to defend it
not while I’m growing it
I’ve spent too many years unsure
so please allow me privacy and
– space.

– Lita


[c] Misunderstanding

Confession: Very in love with my best friend


a little ping on my phone
feels like an electric zing,
there your name sits on
top of my notification bar.

I scramble to find a clean shirt
I ponder over my peach fuzz
wonder it makes me looks like a man
the type you would like to encircle your waist.
staring at my reflection
what don’t I have? – I ask myself

my boy muscles
ride their way over to your place
don’t even have to knock
your voice pulls me in
you’re hacking away at that keyboard again.

when you turn to look at me
I swear the world momentarily pauses
words keep swimming to the tip of my tongue
yet are paralysed with fear at the thought
of jumping into the conversation.

upon closer inspection,
your face is littered with tears
softly you tell me that she hurt you
– again.
what don’t I have – you ask yourself.

you embrace me
I say I love you
I embrace you
You say thank you.

For Tristian

– Lita

(Confessions is an ongoing series centered around the basic human experience. The everyday things we think about and feel but don’t share due to society or fear of being ostracized from our inner circles.

Most confessions are taken off a thread on Reddit – If you happen to stumble upon your own confession and wish for me to take it down, please let me know.)



a little tale
to hold you over
through all the turbulence,
when you talk
and those words slide out
of your mouth.

My arms interloop
like an interlude to the silence.
behind my lips
teeth clench.
behind my eyes
my soul rages
behind my swaying form
calculated thoughts ricochet.

a little tale
to hold you over
through my waves
that rip through
our conversations
that all end with the
inevitable reluctant,
“No, I am not mad.”



took more than our mouth’s fill,
couldn’t shut
nor swallow

felt it oozing out
the corners of our lips
running past the veins

in our necks

over our pulsing beats.

tried to wipe at it.
– trembling hands and all –
maybe catch at it.

it slipped through
the tips of our fingers
then stained our place.

– Lita

couldn’t even stomach it.