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 read a book once-
a story so captivating I couldn’t put her down.
Her edges grew tattered, her pages creased.
I etched my name into her front cover
so long ago you can barely see it.
I recite her words to myself even when she isn't near,
My favorite pages covered in notes only in my mind because I'd never ruin her that way,
Her paper so worn,
it’s as if I sharpened a blade that now cuts my fingers,
simply because I refused to stop reading.
I read a book once-
a story so captivating
I couldn’t accept its ending,
so I reread her, again and again,
like my heart could change the ink.

Mania feels good when it battles the sadness, gives me the strength to get off of this mattress

My hair gets a wash and my make up gets done, I can giggle and laugh and look forward to fun

What project to do? How can I change my room? Maybe I'll cut my hair or get a new tattoo

Shopping! That'll be fun, need some new outfits to wear in the sun, or even the moon
I'm feeling manic I won't be sleeping anytime soon

Wait now- slow down
I need to process
I need to feel these feelings, not go on a distracting side quest

But my thoughts are poems and my legs are restless
Maybe one distraction won't hurt, maybe it'll pull me out of this mess

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.”

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 yelled back when I was younger,
screamed while I cried,
maybe I didn't understand,
but I knew it wasn't right.

I fought back when she wouldn't,
she’d go to bed and hide.
His power over little kids
was his only source of pride.

Not me, though, I never gave in.
I talked right back at every whim.
Sometimes I’d even instigate,
if it saved my sister a violent fate.

Shut up now, sit down.
Be a good girl and make us proud.
Your grades are falling? How can that be?
Put your sister in the tub,
It’s my house, and I’m the King.
You never listen, that’s why you can’t go out.
You have friends? With your attitude? That I doubt.

Nothing got past me when I was a child,
Mouth of a martyr who oddly went quiet.
And I’m not really sure when that happened to me.
The defiance has died,
Now I sit at their feet.

"He’s not a bad man, he’s misunderstood.
His life was hard, he’s finding his way.
It wouldn’t be very supportive if I didn’t stay! I know it looks bad but it's really okay."

I went from loud-mouthed, defiant, and strong,
To caring about eggshells disturbed by my wrongs.

My hair is unruly,
I don't like my teeth.
I haven't seen my debit card
in three ******* weeks.

If I'm not early,
I'll be ******* late.
"Just be on time"—
my brain doesn't work that way.

I did three loads of laundry,
yet have four to fold.
I planned to make a salad
but the lettuce has mold.

The lettuce has mold?
The lettuce has mold.
I swear I just bought it,
I didn't think it was old.

What day is it?
Do you know the time?
I can't find my keys
but I'm thinking in rhymes.

Did you tell me the date?
I'm sorry—I forget.
I'm sure that you did.
I just haven’t remembered it yet.

A mile a minute
is how my mind goes.
Do you want to rearrange the living room?
Should we go to Lowe’s?

These boxes I found
haven’t been opened in ages.
I found an old journal
and sped through the pages.

I should throw it away
but I think I might keep it.
It’s treasured this way,
and no one learns my secrets.

I’m sorry I’m on a tangent,
did we have plans?
I’m sorry to abandon,
I live in my head man

I’ve got so much to do,
I couldn’t possibly go out.
Have you seen my bathroom?
I must clean the grout.

You can stay if you want,
in fact, I’d like that very much,
if you don’t mind my gibberish
and constant running amuck.

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.

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’ll love you from here,
While you go about your day.
You may not want this—
And really, that’s okay.

I hope you find the love you deserve,
One that never makes you feel anxious,
A love you don’t have to earn.

I hope they come healed,
With no mess to clean.
I hope it’s better
Than even you’ve dreamed.

I hope they take one look at you
And know they can’t be mean.

I’ll love you from here
And hope sometimes you feel me—
Because it was all real,
And I’ll never forget the feeling.

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.

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

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.

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.

I didn’t really know how bad it got, and usually I do.
I tend to keep to myself and stay in my room.
It didn’t look like that this time-
no, it slowly evolved.
There was no sudden switch with all of my body involved.

I don’t smile anymore while drinking my coffee,
and every day at 7:30 my mom asks what’s wrong with me.
I say nothing, that’s just my face,
and try to reassure her that my feelings she mistakes.

I sit with my family and join my daughter in pretend,
oddly, everyone treats me like I’m standing at the edge.

Until one morning my dad gives me a drink,
talks about renovation plans and asks what I think.
But I don’t care, and I don’t know why he’d ask.
He tells me he’s scared I’ll be like him,
and see life like an empty glass.

Which was weird, we never talk that deep-
but he noticed the change in me,
so I had to admit defeat.
I’m no actress, never been in a play,
but I thought I hid my sadness well-
that it wasn’t infecting my day by day.

But I’m a fool, so that’s really no surprise.
Now I really have to heal,
since it’s reached my family’s eyes.

I made peace with my station eons ago,
Perched atop a mountain edge, overlooking a sea of my thoughts.
I sit on the ground while the tall grass sways,
Knees to my chest, drinking it all in,
Hair blowing softly by the winds of change.
A place made on my own,
Created from protection or fear, origin unclear.

Today's a little different however,
The temperature is warmer,
And I'm missing the slight rain that usually falls.

Maybe I’m out of my mind,
But I swear there’s a boat resting on my beach,
Worn and waiting with patient grace,
Rocking gently in the shallow reach,
As if to say, “You’ve sat here long enough,”
Inviting me to finally stand,
To leave this quiet mountain edge behind
And see where I might land.

You want to be a family, I admire that- I really do
I think too much has happened, in the past, between me and you.

See I learned what soft love feels like,
That I don't think you can give
I don't look at you with stars in my eyes,
Why couldn't you change when I did?

Once you were my universe, and like women before me I held you down
But I don't want my daughter to be generationally cursed to be a man's clown.

They say we're from a line of strong women, and yes I do believe that's true, but I don't want to be strong for sticking it out, I want the strength to forever leave you.

Maybe this is the fork in the road, where my mother chose to stick it out,
I can't raise a daughter on fake love of that I have no doubt.

Really it's up to me, I can't blame great grandma for this gift,
I always thought narcissists move on to a new supply but this man tirelessly tightens his grip.

I can't ask the moon for answers, no- this has to come deep from within, will I have the courage to keep the **** away? Or will I keep our matronly traditional trend?

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.

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