I only know what it means to miss someone; never have I known what it means to be missed.

When I uproot the hairs sprouting from the glabella
and strip my cupid’s bow of its wildflowers,
Frida Kahlo writhes in her grave.

She haunts me.

“You are beautiful.”
[unibrow and all]

“You are beautiful.”
[moustache and all]

“You are beautiful.”
[sadness and all]

If I’m the villain, then you’re
the origin story.

What do ya say, Kid?

Do you have another poem in you?

Maybe he didn’t burn you
in the literal sense;
but gaslighting is its own
misogynistic brand of conflagration.

Men love a good Femme Fatale.

But they do not love an ugly Femme Fatale—

So they plucked her naked,
gave her a nose job, and called her
a “mermaid” instead

{Siren}

My nightmares are filled
with all the words I should have said.