Tagged: Arts


I thought I’d love him forever
so I tried
to never take his harshness personally
then one day
a piece of me died
alongside my friend.

And for the sake
of saving face
bravado entered the room
as my heart moved in a new direction
lacking sympathy
and I realized

His heart had wrapped itself
in harshness
and no matter how much
he loved me
(if he’d ever even loved me)
we’d never be what I’d hoped for.


About God

My heart
bows and skips beats
all the time
because you are great
you love me
despite me.
That’s amazing because
I don’t even love me
despite me.
That’s God for you.


I’d wrapped my heart in armor
long before I saw you as
anything more than a friend
who had  a crush.
Before you’d ever
called me beautiful
my heart was more
warrior than lover.

Something in you
opened pieces of me
that I didn’t believe existed.

I’d been broken.

The hardness made it
impossible for me to know how to love you,
but you showed me
it’s possible
for me to put myself out there
and fall in love.


To Fall

Once the sun scorched
upon my shoulder
and I adored it
and cherished it so much

And it was delighted.
So delighted
that it painted the sky
the hue of autumn melons

Then I reached
to kiss it
and to love it
and to embrace all of it

And it became a season new
and I stood the calmest still
and shed my leaves

The Embodiment of Imperfection

I am the embodiment of imperfection
often the secondary selection
after others have been disrespected
and mentally molested
by manboys on a quest to
conquer soil.

To conquer what’s already been made dirty
by short shorts and skirts too flirty
coupled with men who don’t value the worthy,
but I can’t tell you which is worse because
I am the embodiment of imperfection

With the ability to provide mental erections
and spiritual suppression
before even considering physical sessions
and vice versa.

That’s why I can’t tell you which is worse.
In midst of praises,
I get cursed.
And thought often secondary,
I’m sometimes first
Without warrant, I’m searched
and researched
Where’s my shirt
and flirty skirt.


I’ve been trying…

to write a poem about him but the words bang around in my head and I end up writing all over the paper like a child.  Words  and lines and drawings are everywhere, but those words and lines and drawings don’t makes sense emotionally (my way) or logically (his way).

The words just won’t seem to come together yet.  That’s quite frustrating to a writer.

Somewhere wrapped in all of these papers filled with jumbled words and cloudy thoughts, is a great poem.  I’m sure of it.  Because love this big and sadness this strong is the stuff great poems are made of.