#eldestdaughter
the alarm blares
but
she’s already awake, halfway
dressed for the day, ahead
as she always is, fully
draped in fawnery, self-silvered
mirrors, long-tarnished
her smiled baubles concealing
the first lie she ever told
when
the alarm blared
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:26 AM UTC
I learn to float in Grandma’s pool
which my gone Aunt Shawna left for me
Trust eddies under my flailing hands
as tiny turbulents teach my liquid body
I don’t always have to hold myself up
I learn to swim in Grandma’s pool
as soon as my toes can kiss the ground
Each year grows arm’s reach until
each length becomes proof that
held breaths aren’t meant just for bracing
I learn to dive in Grandma’s pool
while my big proud splashes spatter her feet
No skill, no grace, no fear—no matter
With all due respect to the water, I know
Grandma’s pool is the safest place
not to drown
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:22 AM UTC
When I was born, a seed
they brought me home
then tucked me in, planted
deep
in the feeling soil
where I would bloom
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:21 AM UTC
there lies
behind my cage of ribs, a core
shaped by iron; mantle bearing
delicate magma
disguised as blood—mighty
fierce, soft; crust wearing
tender skin
curved as lips in bloom
there lies
behind my eagle eyes, an earth
tempered by
you
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:19 AM UTC
every time
i begged
for mercy,
i was whipped
with
already
bloodied chains.
every time
i begged
for grace,
my cries
were
only met
with scorn
and hate
i could never
contemplate.
i was never wanted.
i was never planned.
and yet,
here i unwaveringly
and unwillingly
stand.
martyred,
tortured,
used,
bruised.
for what
is my life
if not to be
used as
the first
lamb
to the
slaughter.
Feb 26
Feb 26, 2026 at 11:13 PM UTC
i could fix
carefully curate the shoreline
on the beach of Morecambe Bay
sow each grain of sand
with hopeful and precise positioning
i could run circles around grass dunes
etch every shape so they fit
a whole family of sea creatures
i could be kind -
unassuming,
shrink softly like sand,
fill myself in the gaps of cockles
buried beneath
but no vessel could i fit
the rage in which i sit
no ocean could i shape - bend - or fix
without the safety to be held
just once
by the arms of predictable tides
Jan 21
Jan 21, 2026 at 9:02 PM UTC
i can’t recall when i began keeping count–
birthday, dishes, the hours i owe everyone.
perhaps it’s an eldest daughter thing,
this arithmetic of living,
the way we measure love in exhaustion
and flinch when the days move too fast.
i was twelve when i first felt the floor tilt,
when i understood that eldest daughters
do not grow up—
they evaporate,
slowly,
gracefully,
until all that’s left is the scent of wax
and unfinished prayers.
i thought i’d be somewhere else by now.
doing something that made my chest feel wide,
like when you’re running downhill and laughing.
but the world kept turning,
and i kept staying,
like someone left behind in her own story.
the candle hisses—
a sound so small it almost sounds like breathing.
i stare at it,
wonder if the wax ever resents the wick
for making it disappear just to keep burning.
maybe that’s what this is.
me, disappearing in small ways.
learning to call it love.
Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025 at 11:23 AM UTC
I breathe, but it burns—
like lungs weren’t made for sorrow this thick.
Tears come easier than air these days.
I wasn't anyone's center,
just orbiting lives that never noticed my pull.
An add-on. An afterthought. A ghost in a lit room.
I sit in circles and feel like a stranger,
a silhouette in family photos,
laughter echoing through me, never into me.
I don’t fit in this world,
not in the noise of my friends,
not in the silence of my home,
not even in the mirror.
They say I’m here for a reason.
But I search for it like a lost key
in a locked room.
I think I’m a failure,
as a daughter with a voice unheard,
a sister who forgot how to smile,
a lover whose heart never made it back whole.
And now even my books feel heavier than grief.
Every page whispers, not enough.
I’m failing in every ******* thing,
and yet, I wake up again.
I hope death comes slowly,
not because I chase it,
but because I’m tired of running from it.
And if it ever finds me,
I hope that for once,
I don’t have to fail at that too.
Apr 11, 2025
Apr 11, 2025 at 12:24 PM UTC
Only worth what I can give, never allowed to be seen,
I tend their wounds and clean their rooms, but no one's concerned about me.
Money to borrow, chores to be done, tears to be wiped, words to be sung.
And I like to do it, but I'm all worn out
I can't keep on giving when I'm left out.
But I'm talked over, my words not worth your ears,
And my hands are unseen, unless alleviating others fears.
I've asked for help, and patience, and time, but I'm told that's life and I should step back in line.
Oct 28, 2024
Oct 28, 2024 at 6:57 PM UTC
Six children and a suburban home
Don't it hurt you to see me like this?
One of yours, and still so alone?
First daughter assigned third wife
I've done it all wrong again,
Haven't I?
Sprawled all across this spiky green turf
Drinking up the merciless sunshine
Trying to keep it down
Weeping about my friend's father
Watching for a hint of remorse in your stern frown
I wait for you to ask for my forgiveness
Go on, ask
Let me for once be the one to deny
Feb 17, 2024
Feb 17, 2024 at 9:11 PM UTC