I wrote this poem in September of 2021.
I long to run free in a world free from prejudice and pride
I long to run free in a world free from judgment and ignorance
I long to run free in a world that accepts people like me
I long to run free in a world where I’m not hypervigilant
about toning myself down
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 August of 2025.
We danced and danced until we fell into each other
and consummated our desire
and you told me you loved me for the first time
it was then and there I knew we’d be together
the rest of our lives
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
I made promises to myself after your departure-
I promise to be completely myself for next love candidate-
No matter how crazy that may look like-
I promise to show him my prose and poetry-
even if it opens a door to hurtful truths
he deserves to know my past if he wants to be part of my present
and form a part of my future-
I promise to not place him on a pedestal
I’ll look for his humanity, truth, and accept him for who he is
and no matter how much I love him-
I won’t accommodate to him or compromise my integrity
He’ll have to learn to live with and love the strong woman I am today
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
the shelf of my bookcase breaks, and my poetry notebooks fall
every single one of my love stories scattered on the floor
Failure after failure
Were any of them worth the effort?
Was the experience worth the suffering?
Maybe it was for the inspiration behind my prose and poetry
and the growth I’ve had
Still, that doesn’t seem like an adequate answer
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
Let’s go to war with ourselves
and speak our truth and heal unprocessed trauma within
and face our fear and insecurities
we’ll walk out with confidence and feel empowered
We’ll leave with versions of ourselves ready
to reach our full potential and ready to 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
escribí este poema en agosto del 2022.
El dilema de darte mi amor
me causa ansiedad e insomnia
como se que no seras otro error
otro príncipe azul falso
que me quiere hasta que se harte de mi
como se que de nuevo no acabaré
con mi corazón en pedazos
por lo que no pudo ser
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
I’ve tried to keep my life private but I have a talent for oversharing
Especially when I’m anxious
Especially when I’m drunk and you’ll think it’s charming at first
Until one day I explode and then you’ll say goodbye
And I’ll get super salty, cry, and write
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
My bra is the milkshake that brings men to my playground
It gives me the cleavage that makes them feel like they’re in love
They’ll claim it’s my words or my eyes they’re in love with , but let’s not kid ourselves
It’s really my majestic breasts that pop out with their own personalities
they fuel their many exotic and erotic fantasies
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
from L.A burning to alligator alcatraz to sydney sweeney
to hash browns
this has been the strangest summer
Doing a 31 day prompt challenge. The prompt was “Where Flowers Bloom 💐
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
My love data tells me I shouldn’t try again because every time
I crash and burn and cause trauma and drama
because every time it ends, I get hateful and want revenge
and While I do appreciate the poetry that comes
after every broken relationship
I don’t think I can withstand the heartbreak and devastation
the next time it ends
I wrote this poem in August of 2025.
When I think of the moon, I always think of your silhouette against it
maybe it has to do with the many nights spent fighting in your back patio
maybe it has to do with nostalgia catching up to me in the heat of august
in the midst of many transitions
I wrote this poem in August of 2022.
love makes me feel trapped
trapped in a cage of desire and emotions
I want to escape from
but still delude myself into thinking
it will be different this time, except it never is
so I’m giving up for a while-
Giving myself time to prepare for my next victim
Life on the BPD 