I was handed fists
for as long as I can remember.
My curiosity—squashed with screams.
I didn’t learn the alphabet—
it was beaten into my ribs.

I didn’t hold hands.
But their grip was tight enough
to remind me I’d never leave.
I’ve been property since conception,
just signed over with a new lease.

My tears were never wiped—
they were smacked off my face. You must swallow all emotion or you're a disgrace.

I was to speak when spoken to and never out of turn. What happens at home stays at home and no one else should learn.

It wasn't a phase mom- daughters marry men like their dads. Though I came pre-etched in rules there was a new ruler to be had.

I was handed fists,
my whole life,
disguised as loving encouragement
to be better.

How was I to know you don't have to yell to show passion?

I was in it, then I wasn’t.
Days flew by, dragging as they passed.
Now, I’ll never get that time back.

At sixteen, I wished on stars for this age.
Now, I’d trade the world just to rewind.
Funny—how I lived for the future,
And now the past knots me ******* blind.

Rewriting days that came and went,
Haunted by words I never said.
I try to face forward, but my neck won’t budge—
Staring at my failures instead.

I’ve tried to live in the present,
Tried to make it feel like home.
But one foot’s anxiously in the future,
The other mourns the past all alone.

The past calls for my soul and my bones,
Every time I sneak back, it drags me down,
Reliving moments that leave my future more dull.

Everyone that cares is here in the now,
But I never stay for long—
I'm always time-jumping,
My fixation on past failures dragging me along.

The time-traveling woman—
Trying to perfect love,
never accepting what is,
Always trying to fix what was.

Like a broken machine
my mind tries to shut down,
but the cogs keep spinning
round and round.

Completely overheated,
the oils run dry—
you overthink and worry
‘till one day you die.

Do I reach out and plead my case?
Or
    Let
          It
             Go...

She tells me, “You should have five kids with your face, you’re beautiful,” after she asks how many kids I want and I tell her I think I’m stopping at the one I have. I laugh, because I’m not beautiful.
But I feel seen.

She always calls me beautiful, and I know it’s not my looks. It’s my compassion, my bedside manner. I ask about her day and sometimes I tell her about mine.
She says they don’t talk to her like I do—and that makes me sad.

She’ll tell me about her granddaughter while I prep my supplies, and I’ll remind her to go easy on the girl while I flush her tube.
Her daughter pops in. She knows me by name, wears a look of relief because I’ve already done oral care and tucked her in for the night.
While I clean up, her daughter tells me about her week.
They both say they wish I worked through the week.

I’d like to stay longer, but I’ve got two more rooms.
So I say my goodnights and push my cart along.

She’s on hospice. I know how this goes. I’ve been through this before.
But when she goes, I will miss her.
I’ll hope she finally gets that Bud Light she’s been asking for when she crosses over.
And I’ll think of her every time I prep that room for a new patient.

At some point, I crossed the threshold.
I went from Kay to a character.
And when I break that character,
Everyone loses their mind.

No one likes Kay anymore.

I don’t know if it was lockdown,
Or postpartum,
Or the weight I gained along with them.
But no one sees me anymore.

If I say something off script,
I’m met with sighs and,
“That’s crazy.”
Then I’m brushed off completely.

If I’m not being witty or helpful,
I shouldn’t speak at all.

I played the part—
Who doesn’t want to be the helpful comedic relief?

But I’m tired.
There’s no understudy.
No one else auditioned.

So that’s my fault, really.
The character was excellent escape
For a long time.

I just never imagined
I’d lose myself completely

Time goes by slower

           When I'm Desperate
                        
                        To know what you're doing

I'm walking in the rain.
My hair is wet.
My clothes are drenched.
I'm not running.

I'm walking in the rain
With no umbrella,
Pulling a suitcase
Of baggage I can’t seem to get rid of.
There’s mascara all down my face.

I'm walking in the rain.
The thunder is loud.
The lightning is blinding.
The wind tries to push me fast—
But I'm walking in the rain.

If I can't unlove you
                Surely I can write myself
                                                  Out of love

I went to college, I got a degree, I don't do drugs, well- not that many,
I've played the wife and the side piece too, I've funded others life styles-
then suffered alone
I spend my days checking my phone
For what? I'm not sure, anyone who gave a **** about me I kicked to the curb-
or they left,
Had enough of my facade,
my relationship with others
always goes wrong
Either I'm too codependent or
I live on the moon
I never could get it right,
so I've hid in my room
I used to go out ya know- I used to be fun,
I could laugh and have a good time but now I just run
If I take too many shots I'll start to cry
so instead of ruining the party
I think I'll just hide
I ache for a feeling that doesn't exist but when I get close my head throws a fit
I know all my flaws and
every ugly feature
How am I supposed to believe someone else could love this creature?
I'm better on paper and returned in practice, the warranty's gone bad
there's no reason to have this
Just for a second I believe
you think I'm gold,
and though that feels so peaceful-
my mind turns me to mold
And you can't see that
I'm making you sick
I don't want to hurt you,
I want to be loved
But once these thoughts start rolling in- sticking around is easier said than done

To the girls who grew up too fast,
now women who cling to hopes of magic,
I'd like to propose a toast and raise a glass-
the reality we escape from is tragic.

Whether your vision is a knight or prince,
or even a jester at times,
I want you to know I feel less alone,
drinking tea and reading your rhymes.

To the ones who whisper to stars at night,
who still make wishes when clocks strike eleven- eleven,
we may not have fairytales etched in gold,
but we scribble our own versions of heaven.

To the ones who carry too much weight,
and still find time to dream,
here’s to healing in fragments and poems,
and patching our hearts at the seams.

I don't know how to end a story, don't see when the plot has died
Especially when it's a good scene, and the mood is always just right
The sun is setting- there's lovers on the beach, the future stands before them with nothing out of reach
Maybe that's not in the cards they pulled, I should let the story line fade out, but that makes me physically ill,
"They belong together" I shout-
And I'll stall the scene with every breathe, hoping hope can out-write loves death

A vivid imagination
is good for the soul
It makes you funny,
makes you feel whole
Ideas on ideas
minute after minute,
Make believe so real
you feel like you're in it

I think I killed the mundane,
growing up wishing to be saved.
I think I killed gentle gestures,
through teenage years, craving someone who cared.

I think I killed connection,
living through my twenties, not knowing who to trust.
I think I killed the mundane,
now I’m nearly thirty,
no closer to my fairytale than I was at fifteen

Just a little too much
to overfill a glass,
not quite enough
to fill up the pitcher.

Dripping down the sides,
an ever-messy lover,
yet spiraling in panic
when I’m spilt on the floor.

Whether the rain revives me,
or the sun dries me up—
I don’t fit anywhere
I want to.

Did you love me?
Or was it just my laughter at your jokes—
my habit of giggling, even at your half-shady pokes?

Did you love me?
Or did I just have the time?
Did you think, “Yeah, she’s not half bad. This could be just fine.”

Did you love me?
Or were you just scared—
tired of doing life alone, craving a body that cared?

Was it real for you? Or just another game?
Was I a plot point in your story
because the chapters had gotten tame?

These thoughts still haunt me—
and the truth I’ll never know.
Mostly because I’d never ask—
and I wouldn't survive you saying “no.”

I've watered this garden for ages
Yet nothing ever grows
I've consulted botanical mages
They haven't the time for my trivial woes

I've pruned with bloodied fingertips-
Soil so stubborn, refusing to shift
I've given every pamphlet a flip
Still no signs of a horticultural gift

If you're so selfless,
Why does it bother you no one notices?

I thought I was good,
I felt I was fine—
everything that’s happened
was just pain that is mine.

My burden to bury,
my cross to hold,
a million and three reasons
I feel like rusted gold.

I became standoffish,
a loner at times,
never letting anyone in,
barely allowing them to stop by.

But it doesn’t have to be that way—
I can open the door.
I don’t have to only give happiness;
I can ask for more.

I’m allowed to take up space,
to be seen and heard.
I deserve people’s time.
They can listen to my words.

It was safe being small,
hiding in plain sight,
but being invisible
never truly felt right.

I deserve to be loved—
to let someone love me.
I don’t have to run.
I can stay and be free.

Wash your hair
Pretend to care
Sit and stare
That feelings there

Tiptoeing around the tension,
“I don’t know”  overwhelms my veins.
But lately I’ve had an idea,
Maybe it’s time for change.

No more hiding in “maybe,”
Or feeling safe behind “we’ll see.”
There’s no comfort in ghosting,
Just the crushing weight of accountability.

Or maybe the lack of it—between you and me.
I said I was protecting myself,
But this can’t be what that means.

I tried not to love you, kept my distance from the start.
But your charm cracked open
my reluctant armored heart.

You were clever, made more sense than others,
Quick wit, no regrets, and never forced me under covers.
So I let myself fall, thinking I’d be caught,
But my parachute? Just bricks I forgot.

You were ready to catch me, hands up in the air, it's not your fault that I crashed out, you're lucky I didn't land there.

Tell me not to think of you anymore, tell me to disappear without a trace.
Tell me to shut the **** up, that you don't even want to think of my face.

See I can't stop until I'm embarrassed, apparently I haven't reached that threshold yet.
Tell me you're so mad you can't bare it, that every minute of your time went to waste.

Tell me you don't like me, don't sugar coat it like you tend to do, tell me to go back to whatever hell I came from and that you'll be better off if I'm far away from you.

You and your romantic ways, your countless list of reasons, your lovely lilac haze
Shadowed only by your fears there's not a universe where I stay.

Battled me.

And all my disarray
The timing and the distance, my thoughts that force resistance.
My lack of patience sure put up a fight, and mix her with my temper and we'll be here all night.
My fear, always ready to run, pulling me back behind the wall I built, away from the warmth of your sun.