It was not fair to you,
That I hid you away.
I did not tell you the truth,
The shame I held over us.
A siren
Pulled me in
I viewed you
As my sin.
Tag: writer
You Feel Like Home
“If you hadn’t been born,
I don’t know where I’d be.”
I wrote those words 4 years ago,
Yet the truth matures with age.
Her.
Her mind never quiets,
Her mouth hardly moves.
Her hiding place is too worn,
With nothing left for cover.
Continue reading “Her.”Learn from the Dead
History speaks for itself,
Echoing errors of the past.
History hides in itself,
Muzzling the lessons taught.
History repeats by itself,
We but control this iteration.
Continue reading “Learn from the Dead”“You Don’t Look Like a Lesbian”
“You haven’t met the right guy.”
“How’d you know you don’t like it,
If you have never tried it?”
“Sexuality is fluid.”
“Everyone’s a little bit gay.”
“You weren’t born like that.”
“Someone must have hurt you.”
“But I could turn you straight.”
Continue reading ““You Don’t Look Like a Lesbian””Pain into Poetry
Ever since I held my pain,
Twisting it to poetry,
I have never been the same…
Expressive arts therapy,
“Sorry, that doesn’t sound real.”
Writing poetry about illness,
A silliness with nothing to lose.
Continue reading “Pain into Poetry”Time’s Up
Over stimulating keeps you running,
Free time congregates over-thinking.
You would rather drag the deadweight,
Than exist part of the moment.
Even when running on empty,
Where there’s nothing left to carry.
Continue reading “Time’s Up”We’re All Mad Here
No one answers the question:
How are humans supposed to feel?
Begging the follow-up inquiry:
Do all mental states possess illness(es)?
Continue reading “We’re All Mad Here”First Bloom of Spring
Not ev’ry tree is covered,
Only the brave show themselves.
Entering stage four of their cycle,
Preceding the peak bloom of tourists.
A cloud of blossoms lasts but days,
To return anew a year later.
Continue reading “First Bloom of Spring”Dear Future Wife
I don’t know who’s appearance you have,
I don’t know what passions ignite your soul.
I don’t know where we’ll meet,
I don’t know when that’ll be.
I don’t know why you’ll choose me,
I don’t know how I’ll let you.
I know only one thing:
You were born a woman.
Continue reading “Dear Future Wife”
Mindfully Messy 