10 September 2017

A Flare

I'm bad at keeping in touch
so many chewed pen caps
so many starts and stops

To be fair, I sent a warning,
a flare sparkling
against the backdrop of my disorder

And I still never left my bed,
refusing you but apologizing
devouring cans of peaches

This message will only reach you
if you put down your gun
and pick up your phone

Cold coffee reaches your lips
before I do, before I catch my breath
I stopped thinking just long enough

I dream in alcohol
scratching little words to you
each letter weightless,

each syllable an awkward situation
I'm sorry
I'm sorry

06 September 2017


I was taught from a young age to be hypercritical of my body, especially my legs. I was always ashamed of the largeness of my features. I was jealous of people who had nice legs, because I did not like mine. Despite the daily hard work they performed, they were not aesthetic. I never showed them off. Spider veins crept up on them when I was a teen. Cellulite followed. I've realized, now that I'm in my thirties, that they are pretty in their own way, and they belong to me. They are big and they are mine. They carry me. They are strong, and I am strong.