What did the grief do to you? Tell me about the parts death stole. What did you bury? Raise your hands upward. Open palms. Let it feel like mercy. Believe your own words when you repeat, “I am still here, I am still a breathing being”. You’re a shell of who you once were. That’s…

I hope your Fridays feel full. That everyday drenches you in sunlight- enough to feel the sting and remind you that you’re very much alive. The rain blesses you like holy water and you remember the good- that lightening is just a different way of staging the clouds and even though it looks harsh, it’s…

April has a way of drowning out everything. Lately nostalgia has been creeping up my throat, I’m saying words that sound insecure. I’m reprimanding myself for every feeling. Sitting in the rain like some sort of baptism. The flowers have to drown in order to bloom- the same should go for me, right? Maybe this…

I hope I tumble through heavens gates exhausted from the world. Drenched in peace. Hold the hands of everyone I have ever loved. I hope God tells me everything I did wrong and that the parts I did right helped me get here. I hope it feels like being carried to sleep as a child.…

She felt everyone’s sadness and called it having heart. The world told her to grow a spine. It’s contradicting like how sunlight feels warm until it burns you. She walks around with open wounds and the people who broke open her stitches judge her for bleeding. She opens the door to her home and cold…

What drew you back to the center? I think if anything were to rip me to shreds it would be nostalgia. I hear it in my father’s laughter. The smell of my grandmas kitchen. The porch light of the house I grew up in. My cousins smiling at every inside joke we deem sacred. I…

Build walls. Call it a home. Become a stranger to yourself. Let grief cover you like the shadows you trip over. Fall in love with memories. Hang onto them for safekeeping. Shatter the shell of your own self. Watch pieces of you scatter. Let everyone else pick it up. Put it back down when they…

Healing starts by reckoning with your own sorrow. What makes you care? Take all the ways in which you redefine hope and learn to try again, even if it makes you sad. -AMT©️

There’s parts of me the world can’t touch. I keep some things to myself. Buried deeply. I reach for the hollow spaces- that’s where the magic lives. There was a time where I would not believe you if you told me everything was going to be okay. But since then I’ve taken off some armor.…

I throw the pieces lazily in front of me. As if out of habit. They tumble and spill across the floor of a home I built. Some land softly and others ricochet against the baseboards. Not every piece was held loosely. Some I hung onto with a closed grip- dug the corners into my palms…