I’m not seeking attention.

I want someone to say I’m beautiful
because I can’t say I’m beautiful.

I want someone to want me,
because I don’t want me.

I’m not fishing for compliments.

I just want to hear someone say something nice
so I can believe it for awhile.

Because sometimes the voices I hear
prolong their stay, reminding me that I don’t deserve the time of day.

I am being irrational.
You don’t need to say it again, I know.
But sometimes knowing something doesn’t keep the doubt away.

Sometimes I doubt myself, doubt that I worth anything at all.
I know I am, but it’s hard to tell myself that.

It’s not a cry for help.
I’m getting help, but it takes time.

I don’t wanna hear you tell me I should be better already,
I’m not.
I have good days and bad days and sometimes the bad days outnumber the good.

I’m sorry I’m needy.
But if you really want to help me,
you have to know that I’m scared to be alone.

Please don’t leave me!

back to Anxiety

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.

back to All My Thoughts


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!

back to All My Thoughts

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.”

back to All My Thoughts


Lips on cheeks,
fingers in hair,
hands on hips,
floating on air.

Fingers caressing,
butterfly feelings,
ideas of loving
sound so appealing.

One is not ready
and feels alone.
She says, “I think
it’s time to go home.”

“Not now, not yet,”
the other replies,
gripping her wrists
as down they lie.

She doesn’t want to
be touched, undressed.
But frozen in fear
as on her, they’re pressed.

Isn’t this normal?
Isn’t this right?
Doesn’t she want this?
So why doesn’t she fight?

And when she leaves,
body all sore,
she doesn’t fight back
against the hug at the door.

back to Breakthrough

The Beating of the Drum

You used to hurt me and make it seem an accident.

You used to hurt me and blame me for my pain.

But I have since noticed your abuse…

And now you hurt me on purpose and you know that I know you do.

You used to say you love me, but I don’t think you ever meant it.

You used to say you love me, but I knew you didn’t.

And I then stopped saying it too…

And now you don’t either.

Continue reading The Beating of the Drum


One step at a time,
but sometimes I can’t find my footing.

One day at a time,
but they pass too quickly with little progress
and growing hopelessness.

One moment at a time,
but time is a construct reminding everyone they are too busy.

One thought at a time,
but they swarm like bees
in my overworked brain without
the sweet tasting silence that it needs.

Why is recovery so tedious and slow?
How can pain be so sudden, yet
healing last a lifetime?

When I look at my timeline and the progress I’ve made,
I have no more room.
The achievements are few on my page.

Recovery takes a lifetime.
A sacrifice for ones better self.
Time and effort to heal and accept that wrong things can be made right.

back to Breakthrough