It was an early December morning and I was hungover. I had far too much to drink the night before for someone who hardly ever drank. I remember walking outside to cool off and sitting in the snow. It seemed a perfectly reasonable thing to do. Little did I know the next morning was going…
Poetry taught me to listen to my own tears. Decipher why I felt what I felt. It helped me hold onto myself during my darkest fights with depression. If you could write a love letter to poetry what would it say? Feel free to write one and leave a link to it in my comment…
I saw a butterfly/moth on my bedroom window screen. It was beautiful. I’m glad for the day. For the steps I’ll take. For my daughter and for my person. For my family and friends. Recognizing the beauty in the day. That’s hard for some of us. It takes practice. Today I am finding beauty in…
I feel the glass under my feet Sharp and cutting deeper With every step forward I take I feel the sticky cling to my soul And the burn begin to compete With all the lies I once believed Move over sweet grim reaper I’m not losing myself just yet I refuse to bleed out Over…
The shadows dance On the brick wall Above me Like dark flames Licking At mortared lines The streets leap to life As car horns play tag With a million voices An orchestra of night Playing a new tune While I make a place To lay my weary head In this alleyway I’ve learned to call…
Maybe the notes Flow through veins Catapult memories From snapshots To movie streams Maybe the notes Harmonize With your breath Reconcile With your thoughts Or maybe they just Keep you alive Until you find Someone who Understands And hears them The same as you
The fire It fortified her bones Into milky glass torches And turned her blood Into kerosene rivers And that’s how she set The whole world on fire
