Buds on the tree they think they are free from a New England winter that bucks in the middle of spring, but that doesn’t stop the bees from drinking up on this summer’s eve.
Sapling
I’ve been this struggling sapling worming and wriggling to breach the surface to breathe the air I’ve always longed for, but up isn’t always up and down isn’t always down and sometimes east and west are conjoined twins and I’m racking my brain to figure out why we should Never Eat Shredded Wheat because it…
Woman
Understand that I will not chase you as I am a woman not a bitch with a bone.
Ode to the Pussy
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.
