the story continue from 2007 on with this poem.
caught up in a cycle of nostalgia
old letters and photos and 90s music
trying to remember who I was
before I became someone’s mom
poetry: cycle
poetry: everything
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.
lately I hate everything I have written
Sometimes I get the urge to burn
Or delete everything
but something tells me
this is how I know I’m growing
I’m evolving in my craft
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poetry: he doesn’t exist
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.
I keep trying to manifest the one worthy of me
but I’m starting to think he doesn’t exist
I swipe and swipe on the dating apps
but no one is of interest to me
and so I find solace in an unrequited love
that will never be more than friendship
it’s the best I can do to quell the romantic in me
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Poetry: Writer’s Block
when I’m happy and calm
I wear my stagnation balm
I can’t find anything inspiring
when my sanity is not hanging by a string
it makes me miss the former chaos in my life
that inspired me to write, write, write
when I was emotionally unstable
the words just seemed to fly onto the paper
now that my life is boring
the muse is not roaring
maybe it’s time to try
to stop these unproductive sighs
I will no longer live the writer block’s lie
yes, I can write when I’m sane
inspiration doesn’t need to wane
inspiration can be found in the mundane
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poetry: shack
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.
my body feels like a rundown shack
that’s crumbling down slowly
I can’t get up in the morning
without my knee or hip
bitching and moaning
without me groaning in pain
and mumbling to myself
“Omg, another stupid day”
and cursing my genetics
that make me watch everything
I eat
and again I wonder
am I paying a karmic debt
for my colonizer ancestors
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Poetry: The Sad Artist
Out of the saddest minds
Comes the greatest creativity
I wonder why that is–
Is it because there are
No boundaries set in our minds?
Is it because
We live 100 lives
In 1 lifetime?
Is it because we are easily
Inspired by devastation and loss?
It is because pain and sadness
Flows out of us
More easily than others
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poetry: dreamy pisces energy
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.
my dreamy pisces energy has gotten me in more trouble
than it was worth
always viewing things in extremes
always making devils and angels out of people
who are really just mortals
my dreamy pisces energy is either my biggest curse
or my biggest blessing depending on the season,
the weather or the day
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poetry: fix me
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.
everyone I meet wants to fix me
my hair is wild and indomitable
my grammar is atrocious
my laugh is too loud
and we can’t forget about my crooked teeth
and while most of them mean well
I wonder what’s so wrong with me
that people always fixate on my flaws
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poetry: participation trophy
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.
my exes should all get a participation trophy
for dating me, for marrying me,
for putting up my madness
for becoming muses of my poetry
unwillingly, unintentionally
for surviving the rollercoaster
that is me
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Poetry: Twenty Years Later
He looked at me like no one’s
ever looked at me
He kissed me with an unquenchable
passion unforeseen
And he touched me, my body
And my soul the way no one ever could
He hugged me tight enough so I felt
The entire essence of him, the past twenty years
Of everything we ever felt for each other
Twenty years of lust, obligations, lies,
Hatred, resentment, passion, memories, life,
And LOVE
In his arms I felt like I was me AGAIN
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poetry: whack an asshole
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.
I hope this story is buried for a final time
and you don’t pop up again
and I have to play whack an asshole
once again
blocking you on yet another platform
would the universe be kind enough this time
for it to be good riddance forever
cause I’m tired of my past mistakes
to constantly come out of nowhere
to disturb my present
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poetry: awkward
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
I’m ready for steak dinners and an expensive bottle of chardonnay
shared over awkward getting to know you conversations
with no expectations to put out
I’ll be a completely different woman when I’m dating again
a woman selective about who allows near her
a woman who no longer seeks validation and attention
from the wrong men
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poetry: glass of champagne
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
a glass of champagne in my hand as I raise a toast
who I used to be
a woman mentally ill and needy
a woman who gave men easy access to her hips
a woman who thought intimacy could only be created
and felt in between her sheets
we say goodbye to the his woman lovingly
as we usher a new era of me
a woman who knows her worth
and won’t settle of anything less
than she deserves
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poetry: four letter word
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
you could have been my forever muse, my forever thot
But like the others before you
you don’t know what to do with a woman like me
maybe my ingenuity is to blame for this
wanting to live in a delusional daydream of love
instead of grounding myself in reality
and radically accepting love is just a four letter word
in my vocabulary that wrecks and ruins my sanity
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poetry: buspar
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.
I wanted to kill my sex drive so I stopped taking buspar
and while my sex drive has finally waned
the side effects are slowly killing me
between the mental fog, the constant headaches,
the nausea followed by the loss of appetite
there’s a reason they tell you to wean slowly
from psychiatric drugs, to do it under the care
of a medical provider
stopping cold turkey lends to a spiral of madness
and a physical ailment I never intended
