Another Afternoon

I can’t spend another afternoon dreaming for my chance to sit at the table;
to feast on the privileges men take for granted
while I’m left sweeping up the crumbs.

It’s true some aren’t even invited in the room,
forced to stare through the windows at the far away dreams.
Yet people tell me I should still be satisfied for being on the floor;
proud of what I’ve achieved.

I know I’m not as troubled as others outside and I know I have suffered less pain
at the hands of a system that profits off the backs of people they have slain.
But, as I work towards freedom of my body and my mind, I remember those I’ve left behind.

I don’t have to apologize for what I want and need
as long as I remember its not just about me.
Because I can’t stand another afternoon waiting for tomorrow,
when they’ll probably have wait another decade.

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It’s a double meaning that gets me in trouble,
a word and feeling I don’t intend.
Yet, that’s what you hear when I am speaking.
No words could mean love when you feel you don’t deserve it,
but that’s not fault of mine.
It’s you who twists my thoughts and words, manipulating my
very mind.
I didn’t say what you think I said.
I didn’t mean what you think I meant.
And with that you base your anger on manipulating me.


The sand is painless as it falls on my shoulders,
sprinkling me with loving moments and memories.
It piles up around me making sandcastles of my childhood.
I wait for the water to wash it away but it never comes.

You play around me carelessly as the sand keeps falling.
How come you can’t see the restrictions of this glass house.

Time is against us and you don’t care that the castles are growing.
It piles around us, you keep having fun, oblivious to what’s to come,
but I know what awaits us as the sand piles up.

The grains of our relationship piling up and it’s only a matter of time
before we are buried from the hate you call love.

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Pleading Not Guilty

I’m tired of saying sorry. I’m tired of feeling bad.
I’m tired of people telling me to be happy for what I have.

I’m sick of disapproving looks. I’m sick of disappointing clicks.
I’m sick of people commenting on the many ways that make me tick.

I know I get frustrated. I know I complain a lot,
but I’m not lazy; I work hard for what I want.

I don’t expect miracles. I don’t expect the impossible,
because what I ask for is reasonable; what I ask for is plausible.

I ask for respect no matter what I look like.
I ask for recognition for ideas that are mine.
I ask for responsibility despite moving away because
these things about myself shouldn’t determine my day to day.

I ask for communication despite talking a lot.
I ask for assurance when I’m having anxious thoughts.
I ask for companionship despite moving away because
these things about myself don’t determine my day to day.

So now, before the court –
a jury of my peers,
I plead to you, not guilty for how I may appear.

I’m not needy and desperate.
I’m not boring and lazy,
and least of all, I’m not sorry or crazy.

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In Spite of You

What is this pain I feel ripping through my chest?

My heart keeps pounding
and words exploding
and I become fragments on the ground.

For me, I feel trapped
between loving you and hating you.
If I leave you’ll hate me
and hate me still when I stay.

I’ve ruined your life and if I was alone
I might not have mine.

You’re not keeping me on this earth,
I’m sorry to say.
But you’ve hurt me too much to make me want to stay.

This isn’t a goodbye letter,
maybe if it was you’d listen but
perhaps you’d think that I’m weak.

I hope you can change;
I know I’m not the greatest but I’m definitely not the worst.

If I said the things you call me than you would
probably be dead.

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You think MAN-HATER.
But I don’t subscribe to hate in any way, shape, or form!

But I don’t subscribe to a faith that denounces equality!

I say WOMAN;
You think GIRL.
But I don’t subscribe to a social construct that infantilizes women.

You think COMMUNIST.
But I don’t subscribe to the sole belief that capitalism is the solution to all economic problems!

You think BUSYBODY.
But I don’t subscribe to the passive actions of society that allow oppression to occur within their own cultures!

You think CROOK.
But I don’t subscribe to miscarriages of justice occurring in our legal system!

You think ELITIST.
But I don’t subscribe to a population that supports the separation of class and educational means!

You think EMOTIONAL.
But I don’t subscribe to the presumption that empathy restricts rationalization.

I have unsubscribed to what others assume about me.
Because when you ASSUME, you make an ASS out of U and ME!

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The Way We Were

The Way We Move

A sway of the hips,
a little interesting.
A seat on their lap,
a little more.

Lips on one’s cheek,
faces all rouged.
Hands in their hair,
Necks all bruised.

Fingers caressing
every line and curve,
as I patiently wait for you
to build up enough nerve
to ask for what you want.
I want to share what I’ve got!

Just remember to ask,
because I’ll have you know,
consent is sexy, but
only green light means go.


The Way We Slept

In each other’s arms,
groped by the other’s figure.
We were closely intertwined,
but we never rested long enough to close our eyes.


The Way We Touched

Your arm stretched out across my shoulders.
Your eyes looking at me.
You want something.
I want to share,
only difference is, you don’t ask.


The Way We Breathed

The hearty laugh of a honeymoon phase
where all jokes seem funny.

The taste of cigarette on my tongue
as we breathed in each other.

The cold clouds appearing as
we glided upon the ice.

The gibberish that escapes a mouth full of grass.

The short puffs of air as
we violently play in the sheets.

The sudden intake of breath when
we began to fall apart.

The heave of a chest full of salty tears when
one whispers, “I don’t love you anymore.”

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