On Healing

There are going to be days where everything seems okay.

Just okay.

There’s hope though because “I’m okay”. If you can get here after how long you spent in the pain disguised as eternity, then hope is an early sunrise,

a chance.

Those days won’t come consistently at first. It’s unexpected and empowering when they happen.

At first it just feels like prolonged drowning:

Have a good day, get a breath of air. Followed by the suffocation of drama and hurt feelings.

Thriving is not even a dream at this point.

As your tolerance for bad days weakens, your breakthrough begins. Almost at the point where it’s change or death, you start to see a solution in changed behaviors.

Choices will be made to save yourself. Therapy will become a want, then a practice. Content absorbed will become deliberate instead of automatic. You start recognizing what you want more and put less focus on what you don’t want.

You start having the opportunity to say yes to experiences that elevate your life.

…Things just start working out again.


I Wander Less

The process of loving

a man

that isn’t good for you

is really the journey of uncovering

everything about yourself

that lay hidden, lied to, and unaccounted for.

I thought I healed months

after it was over

and still I find myself

leaning into the suffering

that comes with

having loved a man

that did not love himself.

In our interactions,

I’m still triggered

giving weight to another’s opinion of my worth.

Allowing the opportunity of my memory

to what might have been – had wishes come true,

serve as a reminder

to the pain I had to embrace

in escape of broken soul ties.

I run towards future

but find myself looking back

in hopes of surrendering.

Always – it is energy mistaken

leading me to wonder if

I can ever trust myself.

To what end is my sacrifice?

Will I never know love outside of solitude?

Can this memory pain ever lay to rest, in peace?

Or will I always find it tasting bitter on my tongue?

Will my heart ever stop seeking validation

in the arms of those who

found my worth left wanting?

I wander in the black abyss of my soul

searching for the end of growth pains,

panicking for light

in short breathes and outstretched fingers.

There is so much healing to do.

It is hard to image

that I came into this world whole,

once knowing the way innately.

I daydream of starting over.

Finding myself claustrophobic

in a town that bared witness to him

breaking my heart.

The last deep breath I took

was when I traveled alone

and allowed the sea water

to kiss my wounds with salt.

I yearn for the chance to matter

less than a stranger

but I also reach for the kind

of love that is all consuming,

aligning the universe

to exactly where I stand in love.

I waiver in this journey and

know not where I will find

the strength to continue.

I falter to my knees,

not for the first time,

though this time I don’t get back up

with conviction.

I stay in hesitation

with the anticipation of what

another hope would cost me.


I wanted to be with you 

more than I wanted to be myself.

I craved your appetite for me.

Longed for your love expressed 

in compliments.

The feeling of your lips against my forehead.

Your arms around me a promise kept. 

Daffodils and slow dances in our kitchen. 

Nights out with friends,

our love familiar and comforting. 

A choice as simple as

choosing you. 

My home in you. 

I wanted to be with you 

more than I wanted the truth. 

My idea of us continuously ruined 

by the reality of who you were and weren’t.

There was never a single daffodil.

I spent more and more time trying to cover 

lies with hope and my tears with pillowcases.

My body trembled but not with passion.

Your lips spelled hate,

insecurities and rejection projected. 

I wanted to love you

less and less.

It became more about 

why you didn’t want me. 

I would wish it all away now, 

if there was an easier path. 

I had to die to find me.

Perhaps I was reborn in the fire. 

It took therapy and long hours at the gym.

Lengthy journal entries and self help books

for the win. 

Months passed before I started to feel free

from all that had happened.

Now it feels confusing 

to have loved you.

A memory of a memory. 

A stranger with an air of familiarity.

When I think of you I can’t recall your face

nor any of the love 

that made me forget who I am. 

The End is Just Ahead

I micromanaged my happiness

and was dead set on only enjoying life

if it worked out with him.

Our relationship made to be the conduit

for energy spent.

I left no space for miracles

and placed a ceiling on my growth.

Life got harder and harder,

I held on tighter.

My tunnel vision grew.

There were life wraths thrown,

exit signs pointed out,

words of wisdom throw up at the mouth.

And still I said no to peace

if I couldn’t have peace with him.

I want to end with some revelation,

to make it all make sense.

A deep exhale of my breath.

But it’s just a trail of lessons

I leave behind,

and problems to solve ahead.

Learning myself to no end.

There’s no standard set,

just endless wars

and big deep breaths.

My self-worth just ahead.

I will keep pushing for failure

until I am dead.


I keep daydreaming about the rope 

and how each thread would feel against my skin. 

The image of hanging myself

has replayed in my head again and again.

This isn’t a cry for help,

it is just truth spit into the dry pavement. 

It is chalk images washed up on blacktop

and dead leaves swaying to the ground. 

It’s grey heaviness even when the sun is out.

I keep picturing myself hanging

and wonder if my feet will kick.

I see my limbs dangling. 

How high would I have to climb 

to snap my neck?…

And this isn’t a cry for help,

I’ve learned that for me,

living will have to be done for others.

It is just the truth in the empty drink

and the dirty dishes sitting in the sink.

The truth of a broken heart 

and wishful thinking. 

It’s that overstimulation which comes from emptiness in crowded spaces,

It’s knowing I have to stay

even if I am sick of “spaces”. 

I take a breath because I have to…

For Zane and Zade. 

They keep saving me day after day

even when I can’t find the strength

to want to stay.

You Were the Ocean

I was the raindrop

and you were the ocean.

I lost myself

in cascading waves of emotion.

I could not breathe

and did not know it.

My soul pouring from my throat

in a fluid motion.

I could not stop myself from dying.


I was the raindrop

and you were the ocean.

I did not save myself

for lack of trying.

I said keep me but I was crying.

I loved you

but lost my way in time.

I was the raindrop

and you were the ocean.

I died again today

but not for lack of trying.

I could not keep myself from dying.

My cup was empty

but yours was flowing.

I wished for love

and was found wanting.

I Hate Men

I hate men

Specifically the ones that

think I owe them my body

Specifically the ones that 

use alcohol as a tool for entry

Specifically that piece of shit

last night that couldn’t hear no. 

I hate men. 

Specifically the ones who think

their dick is god’s gift to women.

Specifically the ones that assume

my smile promises a good time.

Specifically that mother fucker last night

who caught me as I was about to faint

and pushed me up against a wall

to kiss on me in my haze.

I FUCKING hate men! 

Specifically the ones that 

want me trashed. 

Specifically the ones who

think I have to dance with them

if I accept their drink. 

Specifically that moron last night

who slammed the car door into my knee

when I refused him. 


Usually pain is a great conduit

for poetry

This time though…I’m lost 

In the great abyss

Of a broken heart

A crushed soul

Give me a paint brush

And let me paint black nothingness

Where my mind has retreated

I would hang myself

If the chair were just a bit closer

Or I less tired

This rope has hung for days and days

Astriction a goal

If not a place

Where not breathing is the final big breath

Where loving you

Feels like life spent

I died that day

And have been a zombie since

Throwing my limbs in direction

Of responsibilities

While my laugh is gone

And nothing makes sense

but this tear…

That doesn’t seem to end.

Drown me in this stream

I beg god to end this scene

I only lived to love him

They Were All Right About You

I didn’t sleep last night

because I left you.

I didn’t eat this morning

because you didn’t pursue me when I left.

Your indiscretions unapologetically 

kept me from scrambled eggs and coffee.

My couch has an indentation 

from the fetal position

that held me from dying of despair

all night long and late into the morning. 

I didn’t sleep last night

because you broke me.

I didn’t eat this morning

because I was sick from loving you.

Your indiscretions unapologetically 

kept me in deep breaths

and “don’t you dare call him” chants.

My pillow is stained

from the tears that I begged

to drown me.

I didn’t sleep last night

because you lied to me about that girl. 

I didn’t eat this morning

because living intentionally 

tastes like loving you. 

Your indiscretions unapologetically 

kept me from making due.

My phone sits in another room

just to keep me from calling you.

I didn’t sleep last night

because I left you. 

I Loved You in the Wait

Hope is the quality

that plants the seed

and courage grows the flower.

So I loved you

when you didn’t call

and through the lonely

midnight hour.

I am the sunshine

that beckons the blade of grass

and the force

that moves potential.

I am the change of momentum

and the calm that is the meadow.

I am the hand you hold

in quiet surrender

and the wish whispered

upon a falling star.

I am the beginning

of forever

and my love a promise held true.

I will love you through

the waiting game

because I am

captivated by you.