Bit on the bone-white caps
Of my thumbs on-way
To you, sober as a shrimp’s tramping
Eyes at the end of its stalk.

Had a maladious projection on paper today,
Of shyness, porous as fog; every delayed
Communion driven down the hall
Where my blame stays
Displaced. Not much to say
That’s humble.

Oh what a tangled web I weave
when bread crumbing is how I feed
her appetite for me.
It's quite the powerful role.
Sometimes I push, sometimes I pull.
Toying with her affection and attention
it's just a game you see.
It doesn't take much effort for me
to toss a crumb her way playing with
her triggers and traumas carelessly.
I manipulate her sweet heart
and harness her energy
but then I leave her hanging
by a thread swaying delicately.
I like to play with a few hearts at a time.
That way my options for ego strokes
dance around in my mind.
I don’t know I'm avoiding my own inner pain.
I wear
different masks to keep myself untamed.  

Oh, what a tangled web you've weaved.
You took my kindness for granted
and ignored my heart on my sleeve.
You thought you could play with me for your own gain.
But instead you will stew in your own self-inflicted pain.
I don't take kindly to feeling played.
You see this kinda thing fuels feminine rage.
It was never that I was too much.
It's that you're too limited in
energy, emotional regulation and such.
You thought I was a basic one
who you could easily get under your thumb.
But you were arrogantly wrong Young Gun.
Kneel before this High Priestess.
And know your place.
For you must now live the karmic lessons
that you shaped and continue to create.
That rut you say you're in and can't escape
just got deeper and messier in your space.
Maybe one day you'll face your fears buried deep in your soul
And you'll kick yourself for letting me go.
But I bid you farewell as I know my worth.
I am not a coward who runs from truth in fear.
I conquer it all with one silent tear
as it rolls down my cheek
I feel my affections for you disappear.
I straighten my crown and take a seat on my throne.
I now know for certain I will walk this path alone.

(a poem for the women left holding the dustpan)

I remember when my children were small—
eager hands reaching for the broom,
begging to help.
They’d trail behind me,
half-heartedly sweeping,
missing corners,
scattering crumbs.

But they wanted to try.
So I let them.

I’d guide their tiny hands,
show them the rhythm,
and still end up doing it myself.
They’d get tired, bored—
drop the broom mid-sweep
and run off laughing
while I stayed behind
to clean it properly.

That’s what this felt like with you.

You insisted.
“I want this. I can do this.”
So I gave you the broom.
I showed you the way.
I slowed down, waited,
offered my heart like a home.

But the minute the work began,
the minute the dust stirred,
you handed it back—
too heavy, too much,
not fun anymore.

And like a child,
you disappeared into yourself,
while I stood there—
hands full of splinters,
heart full of ache,
sweeping up the pieces
of everything you couldn’t carry.

You wanted the broom.
Until you didn’t.

And now I’m here,
again—
cleaning the mess
you made of me.

After countless phases of tender summer,
I take myself away to the Northern Pole,
allowing frost to reclaim me once more.
I turn myself into an unshakable glacier
not as a form of regret, but as an ordeal,
so that you may heal with your own valor.

Perhaps I seem unshaken,
but beneath it all, I have drowned half of my sanity,
frozen to the point of being numb and frostbitten.
Darkness nearly devours my soul,
casting me into the pale void of agony
yet I am restrained by the spark of your flame.

You know you are the fire that smolders,
an eternal flame I wish to plant deep within my soul.
If I do not exile myself, I will keep melting, growing bolder,
for in your presence, hope always rises, never falls
a longing for the greatest summer,
where we dissolve into one, undefeated emperors.

So even as ice and fire stand apart,
and if this exile is my fate,
let me stand frost, unbroken, yet forever longing.
No matter how far winter takes me,
I will always burn in the ember of your name.

blood rushes under my skin
as you leave me in a panic
my eyes blur at the sight of you leaving me
alone, again
stuck in this heat.
I could do without the teasing
but I see it has no meaning

It is familiar but new
like visiting an old park
where you are my new swing
and I am sitting where I always sit
wrapped around another finger

but even at this desk we are too close together
you say little and I fear I say too much
you study stats as I study the way you sigh,
how you look away when you talk,
and how tired you look right now.

I will stay because  
I feel something strange when we embrace
These funny feelings
I chase them down and try to label
but all I can do it stare
and wonder.

After everything you said.
All the promises you made.

You ran and tried to
Avoid

You took pieces of me.
Sliced them from my skin.

And left nothing but
A void.

Avoidant of the decades
I lived in your accolades
And when I left you in the open
You left me go unspoken.

My pain is yours
To be written on all your doors
For everyone to know
Hatred is the new low.

And if I had something else to feel
I'd say it's not real
This is the new ordeal
Revenge with not much else to feel.

And in-between the praise
They don't know the man I raised.

Every time he gets closer
I take a step back
I tell myself don’t ever
become too attracted

Fear of commitment makes me wanna run
Whenever I hear the word love or trust
Cause those words are hard to come by
And they like to fly away like butterflies

They’re futile lies gone too soon
That slip away from grasping hands
And they flutter up some other room
They didn’t remain, do you understand?
They united some other bride and groom

Futile lies and butterflies

Knight of the night
Fearfully incising the hearts
Of those you pass
With pasts
Of unreliable mothers
Fathers
And caregivers

Knight of the night
I try to look
At your presence
As a gift
But in the midst
Of your silken touch
And unsuspecting kisses
Pressing heavier
You've made your impact

Knight of the night
I wonder of your return
Do you feel shame
In your silence
Of naming this sweetness
A forbidden fruit

It will not swallow you,
I promise
I will not let it
For if there is a day
You feel you cannot leave
I will lead you to the garden
And leave you there
So you can grow

Someday I will return
To enjoy the fruits
Of which we loved and labored
Abundant

These,
Gifts of two worlds
Please, realize
You need not be chained

Gifts
Of our worlds
Are to be celebrated
Unshackled
From self-imposed narratives
Free