I’ve left you on the back of old receipts as poems you will never read. 

A sketch of skin on used coffee cups and cigarette bins. 

Memories stuffed in pillowcases and drowned in growlers of grief. 

I’ve flushed you in a public bathroom once when you gave that look to me.

I’ve watched your social feed and felt my insides bleed. Acid relux to the Nth degree.

I let you comfort me with your stains, allow me to believe I’m some cure to your pain.

I’ve let you. I’ve left you. I’ll never be the same.


Sketching futures with our life lines of a pre-determined fate. 

We grasp at our stars like we could seal in a date when all our worries and all our pain would go away. 

A riddle rhymed with pointless promises and relentless faith.


Wild wind you pull me in –

Toss me as a tumbleweed amongst the prettiest flowers. 

Have hope in my purpose,

Believe my intentions to protect 

And that I may never settle, but always have a home amongst the wildflowers. 

Missing Man

There is a peace missing. A peace you filled many lifetimes ago and cannot be reached without knowing where you are. When I think of you, I am reminded of the nights we laughed in the bed of my dad’s truck; picked stars to call ours and screamed back at lightning in the rain. We would giggle about poetry we wrote in notes and picture frames we once made. I remember the first time we had our first time. The blanket wrapped barely around our hips. A motion so slow, yet so quick. 

And I remember the first time you had a hit. Blunt to your lips, red eyes and long rips.Too many pills came next. A needle and that blue shit. White powder lines, who’s next? You got in the game real quick. Thought I was stubborn and your friends needed you more. They called me cunt, slut, and whore. You were wrapped up in the game that played you harder than them all. The best way to explain is that we still cannot find your soul. You’re out hustling the streets without a way to retreat. Those withdraws have a way of working the weakest into the wall. A build-up, a quick draw, a small hit, a large fall. 

My stomach stretches stress the size of a cigarette burn. The hole you left when you never returned. I know the world can be harsh! I too cannot face people most days! But I’d never hurt them without the knowledge of my stay. I’ve hurt them enough with knowledge of my ways. So if you can hear this, know I search for you in the parking lots, parks, and gas stations of our town. Any spare change or a blanket given is on your behalf. I have dreams of finding you and being the heroine of my past. I also have dreams you’ll leave for the heroin – surely your last. 

My Ego is A Girl

There is a girl who lives in me

She is very persuasive and angry.

She peels aways my fingernails when she sits too long without a say.

She lives in me in times of trouble and despair 

At times I find her inconvenient 

And I don’t want her there.

She questions all my motives

Brings present all the past

She is so absorbed 

in the miniscule rough drafts.

My goal is to educate her of the way things are

To use the waters of the tide 

to drift off this forsaken shore.

I worry she is not educated well enough to manage on her own.

I worry she doesn’t know her rights or will fight when she knows it’s wrong. 

My ego is a girl who lives to make me right.

She controls my smile, the one I haven’t seen all night.

An Ode to the Desert Car

You seem bent and out of shape. Your music vibrates a low-fi hum with grinds of shifting gears. I adored you. The way you provided protection and direction. An escape and a sanctuary. How many adventures have we reached? Missed appointments and bare feet. A clutter of life thrown in the backseat. How many hot days have you protected me, thrown the seat back and let me sleep. Been the lifeline of long distance lust and getaway from those I could not trust. Oh, dear car of fabric, plastic and metal, I wished you were here to be my hero.

The Woman in My Body

There is a woman in my body ashamed of all the men

who wants to rinse her skin clean and her uterus from within.

She wants to scrape the cells from the walls and burn it in a sage.

And light a fire within her soul to settle all the rage.

A cleansing of her body – that would do the trick

Fix her right up from her skin to her future kin.

She wants to tell her younger self to respect body and time.

She wants to tell her younger self to be nicer to all kinds.

There is a woman in my body itches to come out.

She doesn’t like the dance anymore and the music’s all played out.

There are no more drums in her circle and the candles all burned out

so don’t pray for her with all your little doubt.

There is a woman in my body she loves the way she feels;

her curves along her waist her thighs her pelvis and her heels.

She could moan for hours if she did it all alone

She knows her spots, her points, her pulls with every angle and every groan.

This woman in her body, she wants to break out

She wants to feel again without a male weighing her down.