The Story of Anxiety

I can tell you the story of how he’s a good shooter: that little patch of grass. Yellowed, like his skin at birth. Soft enough to tickle pores, tough enough to cause a shock upon impact. Impact from years of depression, scars from being hurdled through a window by an alcoholic uncle, glass that shattered as fiercely as his family relationships, what little joy remained standing. There. On that little patch of grass. From where he would shoot basketballs, the one pastime he could bounce back on, the one patch in his life he could improve. He aimed countless balls … Continue reading The Story of Anxiety


I dream of words tossed above covers and emotional armor unhinged, the way lace and cotton fly over duvet seas and a bra is unclasped. I dream of poetry between your lips transcribed between my legs. Not merely a tongue I desire, but its swirls and flicks that articulate ceaseless wonders. I want the art of your mind, expressed through your mouth, delivered into my body. Continue reading Undressed

A Dedication

I am one to pay for experiences over objects. I collect moments like key chains and hang them off my purse, by my side at all times. But sometimes I cringe at how much I pay for poetry books. Even fifteen dollars. Am I doing this to support local bookstores? I’ve gotten a turtleneck for eleven dollars that I wear as a staple layering piece every week in fall and winter. I trace my fingers over the cover of my favorite book and am absorbed into its world. Suddenly, I am in a theatre, eyes wide and watery as the … Continue reading A Dedication

Life’s Choice

A sole will keep you grounded Safe walks on jagged shards To chase when one by one loves fled Take back life’s wrong dealt cards A soul is found when you are lost Endures glass shards in skin Weeps for all that love has cost Praises the life that’s been When faced with both on rested scale A sole grounds much more weight But though a soul is more so frail It soars like doves past heaven’s gate Continue reading Life’s Choice

The Bench

The bench. Where I sat the first week of school, quickly hopping up to play volleyball with new found friends under the setting sun as sand swirled through the warm breeze. The bench where I waited nonchalantly with my new best friend the second month of school, as scorching afternoons turned to gentle sunlit hugs, until he picked me up to tell me three more weeks of lies as I endured four refills of antibiotics with disappointed eyes, stinging, in cold angry winds, given no definite number as to when the sickness would end. Today I stride by that bench, … Continue reading The Bench