Iβve tried to keep my life private but I have a talent for oversharing Especially when Iβm anxious Especially when Iβm drunk and youβll think itβs charming at first Until one day I explode and then youβll say goodbye And Iβll get super salty, cry, and write
My bra is the milkshake that brings men to my playground It gives me the cleavage that makes them feel like theyβre in love Theyβll claim it’s my words or my eyes they’re in love with , but letβs not kid ourselves Itβs really my majestic breasts that pop out with their own personalities they fuel their many exotic and erotic fantasies
my oldest son moved out in same week my youngest started high school people keep asking me how I am and honestly I donβt know yet all I know is there a major hole that keeps getting bigger and bigger and I call it partial empty nest syndrome
Sex is a work of art if you are in love- Two bodies entwined in a collaborative rhythm Two bodies matching energies that derive a great pleasure It presents a beautiful picture of ecstasy Anything else is just a mediocre sketch
The moon follows me on my drive home after open mic I try to take this as a good omen because lately I hold on to the darkness within let it fill me up until I ease into insanity gotta grasp at anything that looks like light otherwise my descent into madness never stops
heartbreak brings up raging hello kitty energy…hahaha
My love data tells me I shouldnβt 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 donβt think I can withstand the heartbreak and devastation the next time it ends
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
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 Iβm giving up for a while- Giving myself time to prepare for my next victim
this was the best AI generated Art could do…idk,,lol
I met you on a cold January night at the IHOP across your apartment complex As I was eating up my loneliness with scrambled eggs and coffee I hoped you couldnβt see remnants of tears that had fallen before you came and you sat across from me and as we awkwardly made conversation I wondered if you would be the one to breathe new life into my almost dead existence I wondered if your kiss would help me reignite a fire of desire, would remind me Iβm more than a wife and mother But most of all I wondered if maybe, just maybe someone would finally love me
home is where poetry is where Iβm inspired Where I live life on my own terms without concern or worry about whether or not Iβm not enough or too much
The world has ended for me more times than I care to remember, more time than I care to count something about my soul being too sensitive for this world something about desperation and frustration embedded in me since I was a little kid every slight, every roll of the eyes feels like an earthquake inside everything is intensified twice