poet, poetry, writer

– What I’m Mad About Today –

I’m mad that I’m fat

that I’m ugly

that I’m never gonna go anywhere with my life

I’m mad that I don’t look my age

I’m mad that no one takes me seriously and I’m just a fucking joke

I’m mad that I’m always gonna care for people more than they care for me

I’m mad that I’m always anxious about everything

I’m mad that I can’t get better and have to watch myself spiral

poet, poetry, writer

– I Should’ve Known Better –

I should’ve known better than to trust people who’s love language is whispers behind your back.

Who make posts about everyone they know captioned with “If the shoe fits”.

I should’ve known better than to trust people who make you doubt your every move.

People who make you question if every word you said was the right one.

People who make you doubt what you know and make you feel inferior.

I should’ve known better than to let these people dictate my life and run it into the ground.

And I should’ve known it would hard to come back from them.

poet, poetry, writer

– A Letter to my Future Self –

Hello, or is that too formal? should I just say “hi” instead?

How are you? I feel like we’re not even the same person.

We have the same body, but have completely different souls.

When will you read this? In a month? 6 months? A year?

Or maybe you’ll forget all together, you’ll probably forget.

That’s what everyone expects of you; of us.

They expect us to forget because we’re too scatter brained, too spacey, too stupid.

We’re expected to be some sort of clown just here for others enjoyment, not a real person but just a pawn for everyone else’s enjoyment.

I hope in the future you find out that you’re much more than whatever label people put on you.

You’re dynamic, Powerful, Magical, Resilient.

Spiteful.

poet, poetry

– Nobody Even Noticed –

I remember when I was young, all I wanted was a close group of friends

not fame and fortune, just friends.

I wanted people I could go to

when the bad thoughts broke in

friends who would tell me everything was going to be okay when I cried

and would help build me back up when I was broken

But I never got that

because no one noticed

poet, poetry, writer

– I Miss What We Had –

I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately

I got a notification the other day

we’ve been friends on social media for 5 years

but we haven’t talked

in 2 years

and haven’t said “I love you”

even longer

I wonder if you still love me

If there are any feelings left for me

or if you even remember me

poet, poetry, writer

– Please be Safe –

We were always warned about abusive boyfriends

fiances

and husbands

but we were never warned about abusive friends

best friends

One’s we’ve had for years

who end up sucking the life out of us

We were never told about the passive aggressive comments

the plans made behind our backs

How they somehow make your low moments seem even lower

or how they’re willing to help you jump off the edge

poet, poetry, writer

– Defiance –

I’m 8 years old

and the boy on the playground

won’t stop pulling my hair

the teachers laugh and say its because he likes me

I don’t like it

they tell me to ignore him

I’m 13 years old

and the sex ed class

tells us that girls who have sex

are unclean and worthless

I ask about the boys

They tell me to be quiet

I’m 15 years old

and a teacher stops me in the lunch room

she tells me my uncovered shoulders

are making the male teachers

uncomfortable

I refuse

a young girls shoulders

should not make a grown man uncomfortable

I’m 18 years old

and a man in the store

grabs my ass

I tell him to fuck off

The manager asks me to leave

I’m 21 years old

and I’m sick of this shit

I will not shut up

I will not be quiet

and I will be

defiant

poet, poetry

– A Note to my True Self –

Hi

How are you?

It’s been awhile

We still haven’t found you

I miss you

It hasn’t been the same here without you

We’ve been looking for you everywhere

I can’t remember what you’re like

I can’t remember how you sound

How you walk

How you hold your hands behind your back when you’re bored

I forgot all the little things

How you always had a purple pen in your pocket

How you hated….. I already forgot

I can’t remember

Will I remember your name in a month?

Two months?

Three months?

How long until I forget

How to be whole again

How to be me?

writer

And so begins the journey…

To start things off, I’m a poet first and an underpaid, over worked retail worker second. I live to dream but am forced to work. I fell in love with poetry not too long ago when I actually opened up the book of Emily Dickinson poems that sat collecting dust on the shelf in my living room.

I’m a dreamer; Always have been and always will be. I was born with a story in my head and love of words. Today, I start my journey in telling those stories.

poet, poetry, writer

– Thoughts From a Coffee Shop –

I

It’s kind of ironic
how the girl writing poetry
in a coffee shop
feels like she doesn’t belong
I feel like I don’t fit in a certain mold
that people in here were poured into
and then popped out of
when the oven timer went off
or when they were cold enough
to leave their home in the freezer and venture out to the world

II

A girl waves to her friend
i thought she was waving to me
i waved back
i want the ground to swallow me whole

III

the soundtrack here doesn’t fit the aesthetic
its too mainstream
too cookie cutter

IV

everyone who works here is too nice
they almost seem fake
like they don’t care what happens to you
after you pay and walk out the door

V

it’s a Sunday evening
and everything feels calm
like its moving in slow motion
but not an annoying slow motion
more like when the sea is calm and just flowing at is natural pace

VI

College towns are funny
they’re littered with 24 hour diners
because time doesn’t exist
when you have a 20 page paper
due at noon

VII

A guy is talking on the phone
I don’t think anyone is on the other end
I think he doesn’t want to be alone
like he’s uncomfortable with being by himself

VIII

The dent I’ve made in my coffee shows how long I’ve been here
I’m not uncomfortable with being alone
because I can hide behind my laptop

IX

no one here knows me
I can be anyone
I can be a writer
I can be an English major at the prestigious college down the street
instead of a business major at the local community college

X

I need to stop drinking this coffee
it’s a personal clock
everyone will know how long I’ve been here
They’re going to know I was here for awhile
instead of the 10 minutes I’m going to claim
if anyone asks

XI

I have emotional scars left over from high school
I hear whispering
and laughing behind my back
and I automatically assume it’s about me
no one here knows me
they don’t know my past
they don’t know what I’ve done
they don’t know my embarrassing secrets
my bad memories
my history
how I was an outcast
But I still fear what they think of me