I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I’ve been called an angel by many men and treated as such
and it never worked out and they always left me
because they couldn’t accept the devil in me
I’m more than just a pretty girl always smiling for you-
at times I’m also a crazy girl who breaks out in tears spontaneously
I’m a depressed girl who sometimes loses perspective of it all
If you’re gonna love the angel, you also have to accept and love
the devil in me
I wrote this poem in November of 2025.
Become medusa the minute I’m jealous,
left for another or ignored
and out comes my pouts about how
I’ve been so wrong
I become a monstrosity of absurdity
as I distort reality
but really, none of it was really that deep
all these men were silly passing up
a masterpiece like me
and none of the ever deserved
my angry or creative energy
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I’m ready to start living without demons from my past visiting me in my dreams
or showing up in my poetry
I’m ready for a new love story with someone who’s completely different
from anyone I’ve ever known
not someone who causes me physical and emotional harm
only to later one fill me with pseudo apologies and promises to change
I need someone who’ll make me laugh and understand there’s sometime conflict
and won’t judge me for my complicated and traumatic past-
someone who’ll stay through my bullshit
someone who won’t scare away easily
I’m ready for a new love story where for once I’m the heroine,
the protagonist, the main character,
and not the villain, the victim or someone’s dirty little secret
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
held her hand until she took her last breath
he cried and wrote a poem about that moment
it was the only thing he knew to do
after losing her
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
drove towards the moon, full of uncertainty and ambiguity
Wondering what’s next for me, tired of being the foundation
tired of acting like I don’t crash out
Drove towards the moon full of uncertainty and ambiguity
trying to manifest something softer and calmer for myself
where I’m not fighting for survival
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
as the leaves turn crisp, I find myself reminiscent of the many women I’ve been
excited for the version of me that’s to come
understanding I was always right
to continue on and trust the process
understanding this heroine’s journey of mine
was indeed worth it
I wrote this poem in October of 2025.
the happiest week of my life happened a year ago
when I broke my two year celibacy vow and landed
in my situationship’s bed and felt stupidly hopeful
we could have a new beginning where a toxic love story
could be redeemed
where I saw my favorite singer performed all the songs
that had been the soundtrack to my healing
that week everything seemed possible and that love
could rise from the ashes of past crashed
and setting into something full of promise
and potential for fairytale ending
I wrote this poem in September of 2022.
we’re not promised tomorrow, so we must make the best of our todays-
creating community with our friends, reconnecting with our roots
loving our children with a loud fervor
we’re not promised tomorrow, so we must appreciate
everything we have
the legs that take us on walks and runs
the creativity that flows from our minds
the laughter shared with loved ones
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
Lukewarm response as I suggest coming to see you
and my gut tells me something is amiss
telling me you miss me
but dodge an opportunity to see me
Can’t say why or make plans to see me
and I change my relationship status to single
confused, frustrated
not understanding how I got here
almost begging another man for crumbs
of affection for the bare minimum
I wrote this in 2019 when I was reflecting about the way men have often objectified in a way that they almost always seem to just want the fun and sexy part of me but seem to often have problems seeing the rest of me. I’ve almost always felt like I’ve been good enough to be their lover but never good enough to be introduced to their mother. Do I still feel this way? I honestly don’t know. I like the attention and validation I get from men because of my looks but sometimes it feels so hollow. **This poem went through heavy edits in June of 2026.
Tell me I’m beautiful, tell me I’m sexy
Objectify me, sleep with me
breadcrumb me, ghost me,
then try to come back to me
And when I deny you
insult me, threaten me,try your best to hurt me-
Your words mean nothing to me
You’re not the first but will be the last
who tries to destroy me
You’re not the first but will be the last
who treats me like your on call whore
You’re not the first but will be the last
who tells me I’m not good enough
and after all that, try to come back again
and
Tell me you miss, tell me you want me
Tell me you’re sorry, tell me you LOVE ME
Be persistent in your quest in trying to bed me with empty promises
about how this time it will be different
and how we have history
so I can laugh and laugh and turn you down
and watch you sulk
honey, I know you watch me on social media
so you should know better than to ever come back to me
I wrote this poem in September of 2025.
september , september, september
please be calmer, please be kinder
please bring an air of prosperity
so I can dig myself out of the financial hole
I’ve found myself in
please allow me some time to breathe, rest,
and reset
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
Back to black blast from my car radio as I drive aimlessly in the rain
I have a boyfriend but I still feel alone
It turns out that being in a relationship isn’t the cure for my loneliness after all
Some people will say it’s the long distance, others will say it’s how I still keep my guard up
I think it’s a mixture of both and how I have a tendency to fuck up in love
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
the consequences of being a hopeless romantic outweigh any rewards
everytime I start to believe in love it never works out
Everytime I start to believe in love it ends up in chaos and destruction
and i try and try again only always to have the same ending
and after 26 years of doing this-I don’t have it in me
to endure another love failure
someone who appears sure of me-only for them to change their mind
about me on a whim
the consequences of being a hopeless romantic has filled a dozen
notebooks and journals with sorrow and grief
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
People watching days are over, this Song era is now my reality
no more longing or yearning over what could have been
or what I once upon a time wanted it to be
instead I focus on the genuine and loving connection in front of me
the one who’s not afraid of the creative beast who resides in me
and makes me feel heard and seen
even if sometimes that seems cringe or weird
Especially after I admitted I had watched him while he slept
this time he allows me to him without flinching
when I tell him he’s the new muse of my poetry
and he’s brave enough to share his feelings without shame
and reminds me of all the things he likes about me
the one who feels like my sanctuary to lay my love and poetry in
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
Hold onto joy and magic in times like these
pause, breathe, drink water
Remember your existence is resistance
all of that pain, sorrow and grief felt in your body
Alchemized it into poetry, art,a story
or you could just scream and allow it to exist
understand that the oppressors want to overwhelm you
And make you crazy and over react
using it as an excuse to frame you as the enemy
protect your peace at all costs
if someone threatens it, it’s a sign they’ve
handed you a match to light up
and burn their bridge to you
and finally,
Remember, the distress, the exhaustion is intentional
to burn out your light
Don’t let them
