Whispers of “I can”


The world inside of me now reflects.

Great changes.

I am peace and chaos. Life speeds up as it slows down.

Every “yes” an adventure.

Every “no” a shift.

Firmly spent. I cash it in at sunrise each day.

I float where once I might have stumbled.

Light rushes in at all moments. A smile not a hard thing.

Freedom and dance.

Songs living in my chest.

Things are happening, now. Great things.

Sprouted from a seed of gratitude.

Soiled in whispers of “I can”.

Watered with new beginnings. Sun shining upon its place.

Karmic debt has been paid.

Now. Lives in each breath.


Freshly dressed in hope and confidence.

Resolve to better. I let the wind take some things.


Fathers Can Leave

If a man were to say to me that he was wanting to be a father, I would encourage him. “Children are a joy. Their innocence gives hope.” 

If you were my sister, however…and for that matter a woman at all, I would give you something more fair in response. I would like to tell you that if you choose to be a mother at all, do it under the assumption that you will be a single mom. I would like to say, dear god choose yourself instead because over here isn’t for the faint of heart. Alternatively, I would probably lead with a story of how I almost let Walmart take my dignity and sanity, again. Shopping with children is the worst. Especially when you are shopping on a nearly broken budget. Telling you the truth in a parable. Don’t be an idiot, I will passively declare.

I would never try to teach you the presence that my child’s smile brings or how hugs from babies who need you are the best. 

I wouldn’t lead with how my children save my life. 

I would just share with you on how they steal it. Little thieves of time. 

I tell you that you must choose the worst or nothing at all. You must be all in. The price is your dreams and your youth. 

If your heart still calls for motherhood when you rationalize how bad it can and probably will get, then I say, “Children are a joy. Their innocence gives hope.”

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.

Fuckboys Pay Child Support

Dearest Fuckboy,

Where do I begin

when addressing a middle aged man

with his dick forever in his hands?

We all know what you like:

Fuck me once, fuck me twice

but get limp dick when my feelings get precise.

Not ready? Working on yourself, you say?

Been out drinking every week

since before the legal drinking age.

Not a day in church since

you chased the tail of a different babe.

Can’t handle honest feedback in any sorta way.

Get offended when my patience runs out,

act like working on things isn’t getting real

about the gap between your actions and what you actually say.

Climbing the latter at work is also out.

Put a baby inside of me though just as well,

Then act like you’re shocked at how things work.

(Insert dick, spray, now baby is on the way).

Say you’ll be there and then don’t,

Want me to act surprised but I won’t.

Got Friend of the Court’s number saved.

Go ahead and start referring to me as Bae.


Find Me in the Bold Print

Find me in the broken places

I’m here, in the cuts that my 13 year old self made

Razor blades on the wrist

Desperate for attention from my parents

And only finding refuge in the arms of a man

whose 30 year age gap didn’t stop him from undressing himself in front of me,

The door behind my back

Heart pounding…

As he called me a lush for having drank too much of the wine he had bought me

I’m here, in the darkness that took my eyesight

When my high school boyfriend first knocked me out

Realizing that bright spots surrounded with emptiness look like stars

Body hitting the floor

Waking up to his fist still going at my face

Curled into the fetal position as his foot took my breath from me

Here I be,

Held tight against the wall at 17,

His elbow on my throat,

Consciousness barely finding me

Up goes his other hand,

Knife in fist, struck out far enough to gain momentum as he means to stab me

Find me in the moment that I know I am dead

Adrenaline moving my arm, 

thrusting a left handed uppercut into his chin,

Falling to my knees as I crawl away from him in his moment of shock and imbalance

Find me in the broken places

I’m right here, 18 years old and drugged…

I let a stranger hand me a drink and now it’s time to pay the price for trusting him,

Paralyzed on the ground,

A young man standing over me with an accessing look,

The carpet running against my skin as three devils drag me into the back bedroom

Hoping to claim my innocence

This is where I am

You will find me numb in pain

Concussion dulling my reactions

My ex husband holding a chair above his head 

As he towers over my limp body

I’m here where the chair breaks open my skin

Coming down on me again and again

Until he is exhausted of aggression

Find me in my secrets

In the nightmares that haunt me…running from all the “hims”

I’m in the broken places

Where my heart has bled 

Where men have picked me out and beaten me down

Here I am, 

In the truth that love has never found me

That darkness has claimed me since I was a kid

In the place where I wish he would just hold me

And keep me safe

For once…

Find me in the bold print.