daily prompt · love · mental health · napowrimo · poem · poetry · recovery

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.”

mental health · poem · poetry · recovery

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.

daily prompt · love · mental health · poem · poetry · recovery


limitless or endless in space, extent, or size; impossible to measure or calculate
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.
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.
love · mental health · poem · poetry · prose · recovery


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.

daily prompt · mental health · poem · poetry · recovery

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.

[via daily prompt – harmful]