Maybe it’s the wine but
the memories flash through my mind like visions
and the timelines zip like a tight hoodie I
just might never escape from.
Ode to my Changing Body
For too many years I hated
the lightning bolts of my cellulite
the storm cloud of my stomach
the boulder of my thighs.
How can I hate what mother nature gave to me?
What guided my ancestors through famine
What lived through violence and survived?
For too many years I wanted
to shrink until I was nothing
to hide where no one could hurt me
to disappear so no one would notice.
You wouldn’t let it happen.
Dear changing body,
You never let me fade away until I was nothing.
You demanded to grow and be seen and take up space in this world.
You held my pain and trauma until I was ready to face it.
You reminded me that I am made of this Earth and am a force to be reckoned with.
I owe you my life.
I owe you my compassion.
I hope you will forgive me.
Balance
Depression is such a bottom feeder.
Good thing my foundation is a fucking boulder.
tick tock
Watch how the clock ticks
Serendipitously fast
Never quick enough
the past does not define me
Slowly unwrapping the gift,
Eyes filled with trepidation,
You see a dirt stained encyclopedia.
The book is called:
How to love a broken girl.
There is no dedication,
The spine worn from careless handling.
Corners ripped off pages,
Ink bleeding from past spillage,
You put the thing aside.
“We’re writing a new book.”
daddy issues
I don’t know if I forgive you.
And maybe I don’t want to know.
Maybe our history sits like smoke
That won’t leave my lungs.
I don’t know how I want to die.
But man, smoke inhalation’s not really my jam.
And maybe the tendrils of your apology
Are filled with poison that rip my tears apart.
I don’t know if I want you in my life.
And maybe that’s where I need to be.
Or maybe this is another way you control me,
By offering something so worthless.
And maybe forcing my hand is another act
Of violence done with a smirk on your face.
infinite
in·fi·nite
/ˈinfənət/
adjective
limitless or endless in space, extent, or size; impossible to measure or calculate
c
maybe I don’t need to see a galaxy in your eyes.
maybe eternity can’t be fished in others,
an upstream battle with unpredictability that
can’t be caught.
maybe eternity can’t be fished in others,
an upstream battle with unpredictability that
can’t be caught.
and maybe I don’t need to measure myself in successes.
maybe there is more information beyond what I can comprehend,
a force that can’t be contained by the
constraints of human thought.
maybe I am infinite.
maybe my potential is limitless in nature,
impossible to understand and so
easy to minimize.
maybe you are infinite, too.
Homecoming
I was homesick.
But not for our home. Not for the couch or the bed or the mess of living that is unique to it.
I was homesick for you.
For the glimmer of your eyes on a laugh. The confident way you touch me. The stability of your presence.
I was homesick for you.
For the casual way you tear down my walls. The way you challenge me to be better. The easy way you love me. The way you make it seem easy to love me.
I was homesick for you.
How happy I am to be home again.
watch your tone with me
He asks me to stay,
but it sounds more like a command.
Doesn’t he know that wild ones
don’t take orders well?
letter to my harasser
i knew you were doped up.
i could see it in your stare.
the way you stared into nothing
with the danger glinting there.
you approached her and i watched,
ready to intervene.
a woman’s intuition from
all the things I’ve felt and seen.
instead you made eye contact,
stalked me down and sat too close
put your hand upon my knee
while I shoved and I said no.
arm comes up around my shoulders
hand going back up on my thigh
grabbing me in closer while my
anger intensified
i told you to back off
while you started up again,
fed up with your bullshit
I got up to make this end.
You see where I am going
grabbed my arm so hard it hurt
I do not break or slow my stride
you scumbag piece of dirt.
security did nothing
yet you still ran far away
don’t tell me you were too doped up
to know that’s not okay.
if you see nothing wrong with this
the problem lies with you
this shit that happens daily is
both harmful and too true.
My Middle Name is Crazy 