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i write to heal
poetry
being the me that is (me)
there are times
when i don’t want to be
the me that is me
no
i don’t
poetry
model (pretty)
TRIGGER WARNING
true
i hide
i live inside
my hall of mirrors
my inner
my hall of shame
poetry
why do i cry?
why do i cry
when you say
something nice?
why?
why
do
i
cry
…when you
touch
softly
my face?
poetry
a poem for irina poulet
irina poulet passed away in 2013. irina was a poet, writer, and intellectually supercharged womyn. she struggled for many years with anorexia and myriad emotional challenges. she was an incredible supporter of my work and composed some brilliant poetry in honor of my own. i miss her terribly. special thanks
poetry
i don’t remember
this poem is NOT about “what happened.”
it’s about my struggle with “remembering.” it took years and years to remember as much as i know now. but, in “remembering,” and focusing on healing, i am slowing letting go.
poetry
no longer me
i am no longer
a breath
i am no longer
a hope
i am
no longer
the person
you thought
you loved
poetry
do i?
do i
cut my hair?
or
do i
pull it out?
do i
dye my dirty blonde
triple-process platinum?
poetry
a moment (to breathe)
and in these moments
of ever so quiet panic
and
anxiety-ridden
pulmonary drama
i seek
just a sparing breath
yes
just a breath
a moment
please
poetry
a moment (of strength)
…there are these moments
these little, tiny moments
when, again my strength is tested
when, again my resolve is forcibly entrusted
with ever greater need
to rise above and beyond what I believe I can exceed.
poetry
this girl (i know)
there is this girl i know
she is quite beautiful
delicate
radiant
high cheekbones
chiseled in stone
fair skin
aglow
poetry
would you love (me)?
would you love me
if i smelled?
would you love me
if i starved?
would you love me
if i picked and plucked and cut and hurt myself
poetry
we are more
we are more
than
the size of our frames
we are more
than the letters, the digits,
the numbers
behind each of our names
poetry
manicdepression
in this moment
i battle
depression
a darkness
without reprieve
a darkness
without dawn
poetry
when i write (perhaps, to heal)
when i write….
…perhaps, to heal….
i love…. the texture, the touch,
the sensation,
that….
“feel”
the gentle “click, click, click” of the keys…
….the real deal
is what i need.