Sign in

I write about my life. I write stories. I write poetry. I write for work. I write and write because it makes me happy. Read me here too

I want to be trapped
with you — in an old victorian house
that smells of birchwood and sage
with dark halls
leading to drafty rooms
holding canopy beds
that breathe
and whisper

I want a storm raging outside
rain — thunder
leaving you no choice
and putting no light
on us

Inside this house — it is warm
there is your hot skin
golden brown
and glowing in the firelight
ready to be tasted
with plenty of whiskey for my loose tongue
and wine to color your solemn mouth

I want to be trapped with you and your…

Photo by Chris Barbalis on Unsplash

The corrosion is slow, like the start of a rust bubble on the tip of a good knife.

It is clear that Father is in charge. He is an agent of peace. He is a pillar of patience. Mother is not — she is not in charge — she does not know how to stop the rust from spoiling the knife, because she is both the blade and the oxidation.

She begins to mix up the order of things, like the drying of her hair before it is washed. Then, she begins to forget her responsibilities, like, waking me up…

Photo by Dan Farrell on Unsplash

Mistakes were made when they took me apart and buried me in places far from Roger. I could feel myself spread thin, like a web, over hundreds of miles. I was in the soil — in the rot — in the water pulled from the wells. I locked onto passing cars as they drove by my resting places. I heard all their plans to save the world. But I didn’t care about their wants. I worked only to remember Bobby. …

Photo by JR Korpa on Unsplash

I’m fine
when I can’t control
how much my voice bothers you
I’m fine
walking around your bad mood
the eggshells
don’t hurt
so bad

I’m fine
when I speak
and speak
and ask questions
of your silence

Fine fine fine
when your eyes
bounce to everything
that is not me
back to your phone
even when
I am alive
and I think that I am beautiful
sitting here
in front of you

I’m fine when suddenly the sky is how it should be for you the air is perfect the traffic is light the crowd isn’t so bad the…

It’s time to be your best self!

Photo by Tim Goedhart on Unsplash

What a time for the self-care industry and the businesses that profit from that message. It’s everywhere I turn. It must be bringing in millions. Self-care has saturated social media feeds, books, articles, it’s basically a lifestyle now. There are people at this moment emptying their bank accounts to buy things they don’t need, traveling to places they can’t afford, hastily ending relationships, and getting injections in their faces to make them look shiny, all in the name of self-care.

The overall message is not a bad one. Taking care of yourself is important, but it shouldn’t be an excuse…

Photo by Volkan Olmez on Unsplash

There is

no room

for me

You are so big

Your dreams

of who you have to be

are so big

How did you end up with me

a speck of a thing

that draws in blame

for everything


There is

no room

for me

You at the front

adored at the edge of your goodness

as it wears thin

me, holding up the veil

so no one sees your bad parts


I can’t let you not be loved

if I tire — if I can’t keep you together


you say

that I am not enough


Photo by TR Davis on Unsplash

I was at a business dinner with a group of women about to experience the fine dining of a Michelin Star restaurant, when suddenly things got toxic. At first, we were eager— excited — sitting up straight — happily discussing who would place the order on behalf of the entire table. Being the control freak that I am, (a story for another day) I took on the task of ordering. As I went down the line to check for allergies and preferences, I noticed a ton of excuses being shot at me about why it was okay to eat whatever…

Photo by Sergei Solo on Unsplash

The year I turned 40, my right knee gave out, I was unhappy at work, and my marriage felt really shaky.

At dinner with my family, to celebrate the big 4–0, I was tired, after a long day of work, I just wanted to go home. When I blew out my birthday candles, my son asked what it was that I wished for. While the curl of smoke from the blown out candles fanned up around us, I became incredibly sad. Not only had I not wished for anything, but the thought didn't even cross my mind. …

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store