Monthly Archives: April 2017


At ten years old
she should tuck her braids
behind her ears so the
sun can reach her face.

Her worries should be
keeping her balance
to keep her record
of perfect hop scotch.

She should feel the grass
inbetween her toes as
she collects dandelions
along the stream.

She should be asking
how she can reach
the sweetest berries
on the highest tree.

But quietly in her room
she is burdened with
asking the questions
beginning with why.

Every morning she wakes
reminded quickly of
the weight she feels
on her shoulders.

She has a perfect
record of balancing
conversations with
her younger sister.

At ten years old
she tucks the strap
of her mother’s bra
underneath her sleeve.

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its a funny thing

almost invisible when its happens to you
but if you can witness it blossom

see it take root
grow and form

it can manifest into
a wonder of the world

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Honest Poem (In Progress)

If you put your arms
Around my waist, beware
You might get them back
Covered in bobby pins
I save to secure
All of my imperfections.
Someone will come,
Their hands in my hair,
Pulling each unruly strand free.

I’m told I’m kind,
But I’m confused,
I choose human decency
Over thoughts in my head.
Kindness is an obligation
Not rose colored glasses,
Not to be praised.
So when you say I’m kind,
I’m not humble,
I wonder if it just says
More about you
Then me.

I forget to speak,
Sometimes on purpose
I would rather
Not deal with disbelief
When I sprout intellect,
And I,
Could not
A voice,
Love does not fix that.

Being alone?
Probably too content,
I like my thoughts,
Yours drown them out.
It’s not your fault,
My heart, though
Craves another rhythm.
It will dance
Long into the night,
Forgetting the world,
Beats echoing loud,
No care for anything else.

(This is totally unfinished, just kinda hit a wall. Just wanted to get a feel of the poem so far out in the world in its very, very premature state. Any feedback is appreciated:)


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Whose fault is it?

I think you know me


You read my poetry

And then I realize 

That you don’t know me at all 


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Heart to my Head

Hey you,

Up there,

Yea you, 

Don’t look away,

It won’t work.

I see everything

That’s right, 

You think about it 

Up there,

But you feel it

Down here.

I control if a thought

Lingers with ache 

Or washes over you

With joy.

I’m the key to your

Moral compass,

Always a pulse away 

From empathy

Or dissociation.

I don’t always get 

Things right,

But I’m usually on beat.

You can argue 

Any case,

I am always

The jury, 

But I know 

What you can live with. 

I’m a diary that

Doesn’t need to be written,

But I’m what puts the soul

In your poetry.

It’s not a contest, 

Your cinematic imagery 

Works in harmony

With my vibes, 

Elevating their weight. 

So don’t forget

I’m here, 

When it’s hard,

I’m not being cruel, 

But I know what 

You need

To be you. 

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almost there

365 days

maybe then i can rest

maybe then i can live

but mostly
i’m just learning

how to be ok with me

so i can be ok for you
almost there.

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