Ode to the pussy that’s right, you heard me correctly this is a poem dedicated to the pussy my pussy specifically you see she’s quite the detective, always knowing what or who is coming next, if I should continue seeing him or onto the next one because she too knows what she wants and that…
Armor
I wear these words as armor because if I can’t rely on you to hold me to protect me to embrace me, I’ll do it myself.
If My Mind Was a Fire
If my mind was a fire, I might set up the camping chairs and make s’mores, might stare into the flames and get lost in a history of campfires, or I might let my candles burn themselves to oblivion.
Bees
Have you ever tried to shake out laundry drying on a line of any bees that might have made your jeans a temporary home? That is what it feels like trying to empty out my head before bed— just trying to free these bees before they sting me in my sleep.
These Bones
I am done believing in broken men I am tired of thirsty texts empty heads being left on read I am through with opening myself up just to have the door shut because the thing about trust is that it does not grow on trees in fact, I would put more trust in a tree…
Deadbolt
Consider all the locks in our lives meant to protect but more importantly meant to keep others out— I don’t know why but I leave myself unlocked around you, when maybe I’m better off engaging the deadbolt.
Puzzle
I keep looking for my answers in someone else, I know no one can solve me the human heart is not secretly disguised as a Rubik’s cube (if only) so why do I keep on throwing myself out there only to reel myself back in as if loneliness navigating purpose were something worth calculating but…
Planting Trees
If I accept, will you build me into your cobblestone patio let me dig my fingers into the earth to fill every crack with the green that seeps out from underneath? Will you bury me and all our secrets in your garden so no one can distinguish between the seeds that plant peas and the…
Stump
They cut her down today— first, they started with her tallest branches just a few cuts to sprinkle the earth with hundreds of years worth of her Next, they began sawing at her midsection bulbous and covered in lichen her body etched with the histories of teenage love Finally, they snipped her — sliced her…
Friday Nights
Friday nights are characterized by the same kind of loneliness that encumbered me when you fell asleep on the couch every night.
