Poetry
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If you only knew what a trauma survivor goes through.The loneliness that comes from not being able to trust anyone.The desire for a connection, but being too scared to find it.If you only knew how easy it is to go into survival mode. The immediate response that takes place. Unable to pull back from it…
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I swear, I would really, really love a week where my world wasn’t rocked by some random piece of information that shouldn’t bother me anymore, but it does. This week, my ex-husband is the reason I’ve been distracted. And I won’t get into it here, but you know what? I’m tired of it. So freaking…
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This last month has been a little bit wild. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I was thinking about how I wanted to live this last year of my twenties. I’m starting it off strong with a hair appointment and then a new tattoo a few days later. Well, technically two. My…
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I was going through my Google Drive this weekend (yes, it’s where I keep the Vault) and stumbled across this poem. “Requiem for the Gold” was the name. I was curious. I didn’t remember writing it. So I opened up the document, read it, and instantly busted out laughing. I had to have been stoned…
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There is a specific kind of safety in a pseudonym. A quiet place to put the words where they can’t burn you. I spent a lifetime just wanting someone—anyone—to look my way and acknowledge the noise in my head, but I was always too afraid to attach my own face to the melody.Then the phone…
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I didn’t grow up in a pretty house. I didn’t grow up in the perfect family. I wouldn’t even say I grew up in a home. I grew up in the mess. I grew up in a family that didn’t care. I grew up in a building. I walked on eggshells. I always held my…
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Grandmas are exceptional women who serve as best friends, safe spaces, heroes, and confidants for their grandchildren. The author reflects on how her own grandma shaped her into the woman she is today by teaching her strength, courage, and hope. The impending loss of her grandma brings sadness, yet she feels fortunate to have shared…
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They say I should age gracefully, stay thin, and never forget my makeup. But what if I’m happiest in sweatpants, with messy hair and a bare face? This poem is a reminder that being ‘good enough’ starts with being real.
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I never saw myself here — sitting in this place, trying to numb the pain. I hoped for a top-shelf margarita, but I keep settling for well tequila. Maybe, just maybe, that’s okay.
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There is nothing like hearing someone you love is getting married. You want to be happy for them—you are happy for them—but when you’ve lived through the wreckage of divorce, joy and grief arrive hand in hand. Their love story lights a spark of hope, but inside you’re left trembling, haunted by your own heartbreak…
Lyrical Logic 