Finding Yourself Again

Dear One, You jumped into a puddle and didn’t realize it was a hole. You didn’t recognize how far deep it was until it began hurting your soul. Every mirror you checked was caked in mud so thick you couldn’t recognize yourself Until your mode of operation became “just survive, get by, without help from … More Finding Yourself Again

Expectations

Admitting that I had expectations was like shining a magnifying glass somewhere deep within my gut until it caught enough light from the sun to start causing a little burn, like an ant under the glass of two kids on the summer sidewalk. I wanted to be cooler than that. Chill. I wanted to be … More Expectations

Vulnerability

You carry your image with you as a weight which wearies your soul, Like an anvil barely balancing between two two by fours, A cinder block pressed against your broken chest. & the worst part is that you’ve carried it for 20 years without realization. You want to part with it because you know that … More Vulnerability

Loving Deep

What can I say? I love deep. So far I don’t think I’ve met anyone who loves me quite as much as I’ve loved them. Except maybe my mom. And one of my friends whose actions have been pretty consistent over the years. But I used to view that as a negative thing. “LOVE ME. LOVE … More Loving Deep

Pain

Pain pain go away, Come again some other day A day when I have strength to fight. A day when it won’t take all my might. Pain Pain, don’t come at all. If I had my way, I would never fall. Not today, not tomorrow, not any day soon. and I would be able to … More Pain

Drafts

Drafts. I have at least 50. 50 drafts of everything. Drafts of how I pictured my life to go. Drafts of thoughts I thought I wanted to let you know.   Drafts. I have at least 500 drafts of poems I never finished. But more than that are the hundreds of blog post drafts, currently … More Drafts

Metapoetry

This is a poem about poetry– A metapoem, if you will. Since it’s something about its own genre, it seems to fit the bill.   I’m not the best thing since sliced bread But I know a thing or two. When poetry comes as easily as breathing, It’s something you cannot help but do. So … More Metapoetry